


Reigniting

by basilbleu



Series: The Discoveries [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angry Allura (Voltron), Angst, Elemental Magic, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae & Fairies, Familiar Pidge, Friendship, Galra Empire, Hurt Allura (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Magic, Necromancer Keith (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt Whump, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Poor Keith, Scared Keith (Voltron), Secrets, Werewolf Hunk (Voltron), Witch Keith (Voltron), Witch Lance (Voltron), Witch Pidge | Katie Holt, Witch Shiro (Voltron), Witchcraft, Witches, broganes, he's going through a lot in a span of two weeks, i hope i did this justice, like ouch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilbleu/pseuds/basilbleu
Summary: After a few minutes, Lance finally broke the silence.“Allura mentioned necromancers,” Lance began, wincing at how stupid he sounded. Keith nodded. “They… they are working with the Galra.”“I know,” Keith said with a hard voice, then again quieter, “I know.”“What do you want to do?”Keith humorlessly chuckled. “What can I do? I finally hear of others like myself and they are on the opposite side of this war.”---The group finds out vital information about their connections to fae spirits called lions. As Allura explains, details about the Galra Empire are revealed that rattle Keith. In his desperation to protect his friends, he practices his necromancy a little too close to camp. Someone stumbles upon him. Their reaction may cost him everything.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: The Discoveries [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1449382
Comments: 67
Kudos: 164





	1. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i had an idea and rolled with it and i wrote this in a few days. honestly i haven't read through the whole thing at once but im just really excited to post it so here ya go
> 
> i hope ya'll like it! 
> 
> sidenote: this is the first time im really writing a nonbinary character and im used to using she/her pronouns with pidge so if i have pls let me know so i can change them to they/them
> 
> *edit: also! if you havent read the fics before this im sorry but you just wont understand whats going on and all of everyones thoguht processes; that being said, pls go read the others! i promise theyre worth it

“Lance! You have to take this training seriously.”

“I am, Princess,” he replied from his position on the forest floor. His chest heaved with exertion, stuttering underneath his blue tank. His gaze snapped to Keith. “It’s not my fault Keith keeps messing up.”

“Me?” Keith gasped incredulously. He took a threatening step toward Lance, looming over the boy. Lance’s eyes widen as he scrambled up and placed an arm out. His fingertips skimmed Keith’s chest before he stopped. “I’m not the one who can’t even hold his balance.”

“That’s not true!”

“Interesting that Lance can avoid nearly every footfall while we trek through the forest, yet trips up every time he spars with Keith,” Pidge hummed with a smirk. They rubbed their chin in fake contemplation. “ _ Curious _ .”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance shrieked. 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Hunk interjected. The werewolf walked to Lance’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We all have things we need to work on.”

“Hunk’s right and so is Allura,” Shiro said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Everyone here can improve their physical and magickal fighting skills.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Lance said rather obviously. “What I don’t get is why. Allura, you said that we each were attached to these ultra powerful fae spirits, so why do we have to train if they can just kick the Galra’s ass for us?”

Allura groaned. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Maybe we should take a moment to talk about this more,” Shiro said, putting a stop to Allura possibly throttling Lance. “We were all pretty stressed and confused the first time the Alteans explained how we were connected to the lions. We’ve been training and traveling for a few months, so I think a proper recap is in order before we reach the Arusians. Would that be okay, Allura?”

The princess took a deep breath before nodding. “That seems reasonable. When we first met, I suppose I should’ve been more detailed.”

“Yeah, it was kinda rushed,” Lance grumbled, before yelping at Pidge’s elbow in his gut. 

Shiro took a seat in the grass and the others followed suit, all staring up at Allura.

“As I’ve explained before,” Allura began, “every one of you is connected to a lion, a magick that is yours yet not. You cannot have dominion over it like your innate magicks, but you can control and tame it with attention and training.”

Pidge raised their hand before asking, “What is a lion anyway?” 

“It’s like an animal with a body of a sphinx and a head of a merlion,” Keith calmly replied. 

“And how would you know?” Lance snootily asked. Keith narrowed his gaze at him, crossing his arms. 

“That’s a rather accurate description,” Allura said before Keith could reply. Keith tilted his chin up, eyes lazily gliding over Lance who glared back and indignantly huffed. “No one knows the origin of this magick or even if a lion is its true form. It is simply the shape it takes if it’s needed to physically manifest, which it can’t do until it’s wholly connected with a physical being. You five are the anchors the lions need to become solid.”

“So why us?” Hunk asked. “If the lions need a physical being to latch onto, why not connect with, I don’t know, a tree?”

“It’s not that easy,” Allura said. “A tree is too… simple. The being must have the mental capacity to call upon the lion. An ideal candidate would be fae, but after the invasion and the betrayals I witnessed…” Her eyes fogged for a brief second before they cleared with an accompanied strained smile, “I trust no one more than you five to be the next paladins.” 

Everyone remained silent. Altea’s defeat to the Galra would always be a sensitive subject for Allura. She hasn’t talked much of it: an offhand comment here or there, but nothing concrete except for the tears trailing down the pink marks decorating her cheeks. She always thought her companions could not hear her choked sobs in the middle of the night; no one has had the heart to correct her. 

“That and of course, you five happen to have identical quintessences to the lions.”

“And that is…?” Lance drew out. Allura furrowed her brows.

“Do witches not know of quintessence?” she incredulously asked. 

Everyone looked to one another, confusion evident in their eyes. Apparently not. 

“Oh, well,” she said hesitantly, clearly not anticipating their lack of basic magickal knowledge. “Quintessence is life itself. It is the magick within that allows you to live, breath, think. It is your being. For the lions to bond to a creature, their quintessences must match and you five happen to correspond to the five lions: black, red, blue, yellow, and green.”

Hunk shrugged his shoulders before scratching the back of his neck. “I guess that makes sense.”

“So the plan is to use these lions to defeat Zarkon and his regime?” Keith asked. 

“Yes, while gathering and freeing as many allies as we can,” Allura said. “I would’ve preferred to begin your lion training earlier, but you need to be physically capable before I can trust you to control your lions. They can be quite dangerous if not tamed correctly.”

“We understand, Allura,” Shiro assured. He stood from the grass to stand by her. “We’ll continue to work hard before you deem us ready to call upon the lions. Right, team?”

A chorus of affirmations rose from the group as they all stood.

“Thank you. All of you,” Allura said. “I know I can be rather tough, but I do so because I want you safe, especially against the Galra and their necromancers.”

Lance felt Keith stiffened at his side, but he wouldn’t dare look at him. Despite the overwhelming urge to do so, to see his reaction, he couldn’t because he couldn’t place any suspicious on him--it was a lesson Shiro had ingrained into him once they actually had a conversation after Shiro learned Lance knew of Keith’s necromancy. Keith’s safety was Shiro’s priority, which meant it was Lance’s as well. If Lance did anything to obstruct that, Shiro wouldn’t hesitate to act. And Lance rather not go up against all that muscle with a tragic backstory involving the murderous Galra. 

“Necromancers?” Keith asked. His voice wavered. Barely, just enough for Lance to catch. 

“Had I not mentioned? There were witches present during the invasion.” Allura paused, a frown pulled on her lips. She whispered, “Many of them. Too many.” She closed her eyes and Lance could physically see her grief as she wrapped her arms around herself and angled away from her friends. “Apologies, I rather not… I cannot discuss what happened. Not yet. It’s--”

“Allura,” Shiro interrupted. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed while everyone nodded along. “You’ve been through so much in so little time. It’s okay if you’re not ready to share now or ever. Just take your time.”

“Thank you,” Allura shakily said.

“Now how about some lunch,” he said. “I can make your favorite with the juniberry jam?”

Allura’s face broke into a soft smile. “That sounds lovely. Everyone must join.”

She placed her hand around Hunk’s arm as he led her through the trees toward camp. Pidge shoved by Lance, sticking their tongue out before catching up with the group. Lance dramatically gasped before chasing after them and roughly ruffling their hair. They grumbled as they flattened it down. 

“Maybe when we start training up again, Lance will finally be able to get his head out of his ass,” Pidge teased. 

“Oh,  _ please. _ If anyone has to get their head out of their ass, it’d be Mullet,” Lance said, turning to see… no one following him. He stopped walking. “Keith?” 

The forest around him remained silent except for the occasional chirp of a bird or flutter of a faerie. He turned back to the group as they continued walking, Pidge now hanging off Shiro’s back, the man not struggling at all under their added weight. 

Lance set his jaw and strode off in the opposite direction, back to the training field with a worried knot beginning to settle in his gut. Once Allura finally found the juniberries, they had moved on from their last location, following the river upstream for a few days. Their new camp remained unburned, a promise Keith had reluctantly agreed to; Lance wouldn’t be surprised to find the clearing a crisp, but as he quickly strode to the tree line, there was no smoke, no clogging smell, no heat. 

Lance busted through the brush only to be greeted with Keith. Standing. Unmoved since their conversation with Allura. The stillness of the boy offset Lance. He was so erriely stationary, not flaming, smoking, or popping. There was no smell of a warm fire in the air, the smokey spice of a yule fire absent. Like a ghost, Lance could feel his presence, but couldn’t sense it with anything other than his eyes; Keith seemed more apparition than witch and the thought scared Lance.

Slowly he approached Keith. His head was hung down, eyes obscured by his raven hair, but Lance knew Keith could hear the grass crumpling under his foot. He didn’t dare touch him, simply planted himself in front of the other witch. 

“Hey, Keith?” Lance softly asked. Hesitantly Keith titled his chin up. Dull, unfocused eyes landed on Lance’s face, seeing him but not  _ seeing  _ him. Lance swallowed then asked a question he already knew the answer to. “Are you okay? Everyone left to get lunch.”

Keith turned his face away, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Keith,” Lance breathed. 

“No, it’s fine, Lance,” Keith said. He took a step back, but Lance could see the trembling of his knees. 

“Why don’t we sit for a bit?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“And it’s clear you’re not,” Lance frustratedly countered. He ran a hand through his curls. “Let’s just sit for a few minutes. Please. It doesn’t have to be for long.” Lance placed a light hand on Keith’s back, but the boy stiffened and moved from it. It hurt Lance, but he swallowed it. He needed to focus on Keith, not himself. 

Keith carefully stepped toward the trees until sinking down beside one. Lance followed suit, leaning his back against the trunk. He didn’t know where to start. The necromancers’ involvement in the Galra invasion struck Keith. He hadn’t even known if there were others like him and when he finally learned there were still live necromancers, he’s on the opposite side. He’s fighting against those like himself: marginalized, hunted, scared. But maybe they weren’t with the Galra. Maybe Keith would choose his people over them.

Lance berated himself right after the thought. Keith had been the one pushing everyone so hard to continue training and to quicken their schedule so they can reach the Arusians and finally begin gathering allies. Keith looked after Shiro’s wounds and scars after his return and calmed him after his nightmares when no one else could approach him. He hated the Galra almost as vehemently as Allura. Necromancers wouldn’t change that. 

After a few minutes, Lance finally broke the silence. 

“Allura mentioned necromancers,” Lance began, wincing at how stupid he sounded. Keith nodded. “They… they are working with the Galra.”

“I know,” Keith said with a hard voice, then again quieter, “I know.”

“What do you want to do?”

Keith humorlessly chuckled. “What can I do? I finally hear of others like myself and they are on the opposite side of this war.”

“You don’t kn--”

“Allura said so,” Keith said, voice defeated and dry. 

“You don’t know the circumstances,” Lance argued. Keith huffed in disbelief, turning his head away. “Listen to me. You don’t know why they sided with the Galra. There are so many possibilities as to why and you can’t dismiss them until we see them for ourselves.”

“But what if… what if you’re wrong?” Keith pleaded. 

“I’m just not,” Lance said.

“That’s not a very convincing answer.”

“Never said it was. You’ll just have to trust me,” Lance said, a smirk on his lips.

“I… I’m trying. I can,” Keith murmured. “But not with this. I can’t hope and wish that I’m not the monster parents tell their children about only to discover that we are everything everyone thinks of us. Murderous, unnatural,  _ evil _ things.”

“You aren’t evil,” Lance said, his voice decisive. He spoke his words as if there were no other truth he could’ve uttered. He fully faced Keith, grabbing his shoulder until Lance could see his violet eyes glinting beneath his dark hair. He’s always hated how easily Keith could snap his emotions away, cover them up until they exploded from his lips or around his knuckles. He couldn’t know what Keith buried under his mask, but he could  _ feel _ the turmoil, the destruction, the hatred. He had to stop it; the need dug under his skin and pricked at the back of his neck. He needed to stop it. 

“You are  _ not  _ evil,” Lance sharply stated. “They are people, just like everyone else, and because of that they sided with Zarkon and the Galra. Not because they are necromancers. Necromancers aren’t evil. People are.” But Keith shook his head. Lance now held both his shoulders firmly, attempting to ground him in his words. “If you were evil, you wouldn’t have stopped that peryton. If you were evil, you wouldn’t have surrendered while I… while I held a dagger over your head. If you were evil, you wouldn’t have this guilt eating at you and you wouldn’t have stopped yourself from using your magick.”

“I’m not guilty,” Keith murmured. 

“Exactly!” Lance exclaimed. “Then why do you carry the guilt with you anyway? You can’t help the magick you have, so make the best of it because clearly the other necromancers didn’t. They sided with the wrong fae, so now we are going to kick their asses.”

Keith huffed. “They’re necromancers. They are going to be so much harder to take down and Zarkon has an army of them.”

“Then we’ll train harder, bond with these  _ lion _ creatures, gather the fae allies Allura mentioned,” Lance said. “They aren’t going to scare us. I’m not afraid of them. And I’m not afraid of you either, so you better bring it on in training. No backing down, Mullet.”

Keith chuckled, shaking his head. Ah, and that’s all Lance needed: a smile, a small one, but nonetheless a crack in Keith’s armor. “Okay, then you better not complain when I kick your soggy ass.”

“Soggy! You better take that back!” Lance lightheartedly pushed at Keith, who landed sideways in the grass, propping himself up on his elbow. “I’ll have you know this ass is loved by all the ladies.”

Keith’s pinking nose scrunched up as he snorted. “Ha! Doubtful.”

“Why, Kogane! How dare you question my ass’s plumpness,” Lance snootily said, placing his hands on his hips. “I may not have Hunk’s thiccness or Shiro’s muscle, but my bubble butt is still prized in all seven pockets.”

“Oh stars, please stop!” Keith laughed. 

“Not until you admit my ass isn’t soggy,” Lance said.

Keith’s eyes glinted in challenge. He slowly sat up, before saying, “Never.”

Lance launched himself at him, trying to pin his wrists, but they slipped out of his grip easily. Keith hooked his leg around Lance’s and his world spun. Suddenly Lance was on his back gasping as Keith loomed over him with a triumphant smirk, hair haloing his face. 

“That’s the best you got?”

“You wish,” Lance pushed out from clenched teeth. The witch wiggled and twisted but Keith’s grip was solid, his wrapped hands pushed against his wrists. After multiple failed attempts, Lance deflated, gazing up at Keith, who looked upon him with crinkled eyes. Even through the cloth and leather, his hands were warm against Lance’s wrists. He thickly swallowed as his face heated. “Okay, okay, you can let go now.”

Keith hesitated before releasing his wrists. In a second he was off him and Lance was standing up and dusting off his clothing, taking his time as he got his head on straight. When he was done, he offered a hand to Keith, pulling him up.

“So your hands are feeling better?” Lance asked. Keith flexed his fingers. The leather pulled against the wrappings underneath that continued further down his arms. He shook them out.

“Thanks to your healing sessions,” Keith said. “It’s been a little over a week and they hurt, but it’s way better than last time.”

“If they still hurt, maybe you should lay off training for a bit,” Lance suggested, but Keith shook his head. If Keith didn’t think about postponing training beforehand, there was no way he’d lay off after learning the necromancers allied themselves with the Galra. “Look, just think about it alright? You can’t damage them more.”

Keith remained silent until huffing when Lance nudged him with his shoulder as he passed him. He turned, raising a brow at Lance’s antics.

“C’mon.” Lance nodded his head toward camp. “Hunk’s making some fae dish with juniberries for lunch. Wouldn’t want to miss out. Plus I want to change your bandages. If you’re not going to stop training, we need to look after them more.”

“Lance, you really don’t--”

“Nuh, uh. No way, Kogane, are you getting out of proper care and hygiene,” Lance tutted. 

Keith shook his head as he smiled and fell into step beside Lance.

\---

Necromancers were part of Zarkon’s army; that was an unforeseen complication.

Keith had never thought, never had even considered, necromancers seeking refuge from other witches in the Fae Pocket. Fae were notoriously hostile to other magickal creatures invading on their territory uninvited and for whatever reason, they decided to take necromancers in and hide them away. 

Well, maybe the Galra knew what they were doing.

If they had been planning their invasion since before the Purge, then they would've known accepting the necromancers would only be an advantage. Better to ally yourself with the most dangerous than make an enemy of them. But now that put a strain on Keith.

How could he protect his friends? It’s been so long since the Purge, so long since anyone has had to subdue groups of necromancers. It’s hard to kill something that controlled death itself. If he could… If he could ask his pop or even his ma… They’d hate him for even thinking about killing  _ purposefully _ , but he needed to protect his friends. Everyday they were growing closer to each other as well as the Galra. Keith couldn’t just stand by and not do anything when he could be the only one able to stop the necromancers.

Keith sat deep in the forest, away from camp, away from the training field, away from his friends. Balanced in his lap was a book, the smallest necromantic book he owned. With the title scratched out and a locking spell around its cover, he thought it would be the easiest one to conceal as they traveled. The spells varied from beginner to advanced. He had it opened to a summoning spell. It was fairly simple, but he had avoided it because it called for necromantic fire. It hadn’t been long since he had started practicing with the fire, maybe a week at most, but he was desperate. If he could get a hold of his pop, he could apologize, ask for forgiveness, beg for advice. He didn’t know what to do. He needed a way to save him friends.

Keith took a breath, steadying himself, clearing his mind and the space around him. On an exhale, he breathed out hot molten air, searing symbols around himself, intricate necromantic runes. The grass crisped and blackened around him. He glanced around then back at his book; the runes had to be perfect. Then he grabbed the mortar he had prepared beforehand, full of various yet thankfully simple ingredients. It just needed one more thing. 

Carefully Keith took off a glove and unwrapped the bandages on one of his hands, letting the cloth, still smelling of healing balm, drop to the floor. He unsheathed his knife. The symbol lightly glowed at its hilt. 

The final ingredient was a connection.

Slowly he dragged the sharp edge of the blade across his warped skin. His teeth clenched as he pressed hard enough to draw blood and his hand shook as crimson dripped like syrup into the bowl. A few drops. It was only a few drops but Keith was sweating yet cold and shivering. 

He might see his pop. Thickly he swallowed. It was a terrifying thought; it was a radiant idea.

Picking up a pestle, he grinded the ingredients together until they were indistinguishable from one another. Now for the last part.

He placed the mortar in front of himself, aligning it just right with the runes. A quick snap of his fingers his necromantic fire burst from his palm. He held it carefully, delicately. He was still so new to  _ this _ : the control, the little he had, was incredible and thrilling and powerful. The flame grew with his rising emotions. He smiled.

Keith prayed to whatever gods or spirits or powers of the universe that this would work and placed his hand above the mortar.

“Keith?” a voice asked.

Immediately his fire extinguished. He gasped as he turned around, knife held out with its rune glowing ominously.

Pidge stood there, a few paces behind him, their glasses glinting as their eyes darted from him to the runes. They widened.

_ No. _

“Pidge,” Keith choked. But they shook their head frantically before bolting into the forest. 

“Shiro! Allura!” they called.

Keith didn’t even have time to think. He followed after them.

\---

“That’s not what I meant, bud,” Lance complained, draping himself over Hunk who was sitting, hunched over some of Pidge’s human tech--very illegal, but very cool--and fiddling with different parts Lance didn’t care to know the names to. “I’m just saying if the twins decided--”

“Your  _ mamá _ would kill you for encouraging your niece and nephew,” Hunk chuckled, jerkily moving Lance until he finally rolled off his back and into the grass beside him. Allura walked by and shook her head and smiled at Hunk, rolling her eyes at Lance’s antics, before joining Coran over the map table. 

“But they’d so get away with it!” Lance shouted. “They’re innocent little  _ ángeles  _ and no one would suspect--”

Suddenly Hunk shoved his hand over Lance’s mouth, which kept moving under his palm. Hunk shushed him before turning to the treeline with furrowed brows. Lance followed his gaze. 

Something was wrong. 

“Do you hear something?” Hunk asked after a moment. Lance simply shook his head. 

Hunk stood up, leaving him laying in the grass. Tall wolf ears appeared on his head, twitching and swiveling. He gasped.

“It’s Pidge! They’re in trouble!” 

Immediately Hunk began shifting, far too fast to be comfortable. His clothing flew into the leather tag around his neck, pocketing the fabric away neatly in a slip of magick as his body shrunk and grew, as bones cracked and muscles lashed. Fur sprouted from his skin, a dark chocolate color that enveloped him. His golden headband now rested around his neck as a status symbol, more for the sake of others than for his pack. In a few tense seconds, a full grown werewolf stood by Lance, growling and huffing at the treeline, ready to bolt. 

“Lance!” Pidge distantly shouted. Lance heard his name, the shrill, terrified tone of their voice breaking through the silence of the forest. “Someone! Hunk!  _ Hunk! _ ”

Lance immediately had water swirling around his fists, heading in the direction of Pidge’s scared screams. Hunk whined beside him, wanting to crash through the forest to protect the youngest of them all, but he waited, deferring to Shiro’s judgement. The man was already in battle mode, the intensity of his eyes setting Lance on edge, but he followed their leader as he dashed to the forest line. Suddenly a bird crashed through the brush and landed against Shiro’s chest. He grunted as he carefully gripped the owl who shook in his hold. 

As Shiro retreated to Allura and Coran with Pidge in his hands, Lance stepped between them and the forest. Something out there scared the shit out of Pidge--a very hard thing to do. If it followed, it wasn’t getting past him. 

“Shiro!  _ Shiro _ ,” Pidge cried. Lance glanced over his shoulder. Pidge had shifted back to their human form and were clawing at Shiro’s shirt. “It’s… It’s--He,” they hiccuped. 

“Hey, calm down, Pidge,” Shiro spoke slowly and authoritatively, the hardness in his voice chipping at her frantic brain. “You need to tell us what happened.”

“He--He was...” they gasped. “ _ Keith! _ ”

“What about Keith?” Lance interjected before Shiro could. He left Hunk to guard them as he locked worried eyes with Shiro. “Is he hurt? What attacked you?”

They shook their head, taking a few breaths.

Hunk growled, grabbing everyone’s attention. Allura moved closer to the wolf, her battle staff in hand. 

Keith burst through the brush, panting. Twigs and leaves littered his dark hair and he had lost one of his wrappings around his burns, the streaked skin glistening with healing salve. Lance let out a breath at the relief he felt. The feeling spread from his chest to his finger tips. He took a step toward Keith, but jerked at Pidge’s scream.

“ _ Necromancer! _ ”

The clearing fell silent. 

Lance thickly swallowed as he hesitantly looked to Keith. He hadn’t noticed the terrified look in his eyes. 

“Traitor!’ Allura yelled. She grabbed her staff barreled through Lance and Hunk. Keith looked upon her with wide eyes, frozen yet she swung. He narrowly evaded, rolling to the side in a crouch, hands up. 

“Wait! Please--” 

“No, you filthy  _ monster! _ ” 

Allura advanced on him again. In his panic, Keith forgot his training. He stumbled back, colliding with a tree, and tripped over one of its traitorous roots. He fell, bracing himself on his hands, but crying out in pain at the pressure to his burns. He crumpled. And Allura took advantage: her staff raised high, but it never hit its mark.

Lance stood above Keith. Water floated above their heads, slowing Allura’s swing and all but stopping her from hurting Keith. 

“Lance,” she growled. “ _ Move. _ ”

Stars, she was terrifying. Her pink marks glowed as dark as blood. Her blue eyes burned through Lance, igniting his fear but also his courage. He wasn’t going to let her hurt Keith.

“No,” Lance said. He whipped the water, steering her staff to the floor. She shrieked in anger, throwing it down before she pounced, grappling with Lance’s wrists, trying to still his fingers. Within seconds he was on the floor, gasping as the air was pulled from his lungs. Her hands were wrapped around his own and the water dropped to the floor, draining into the soil. He bucked and strained, but she was too strong; she easily moved him, trapping his throat under her forearm and crushing it. He gasped, feeling like a fish out of water. 

Vaguely he heard a growl nearby and then heat. So much heat. Keith steamed next to them, warding off Hunk and threatening Allura. He gripped his stomach and hunched over his knees, but his eyes never left the way Allura restrained Lance.

“Get off him,” he forcefully said. She shook her head, sweat dripping from her brow. Fire exploded from the witch, surrounding the three on all sides. It moved steadily closer. Lance’s vision blurred, but he still saw Allura’s eyes widen in fear. He glanced over to Keith, who was now coughing like he had the day in the practice field. “Don’t want… to hurt you.”

Keith was losing control. Pidge’s hysterics, Allura’s reaction, the realization that everyone now knew what he was: it was too much for him.

Lance reignited his struggle, catching Allura off guard. She released him and he rolled into the fire that he knew wouldn’t hurt him. While Allura remained trapped in the circle of flames, he landed in front of Keith who was choking on his own breath. He drew in water around them, blocking out the others for just a moment. Making to grab Keith, he reached out his hand, but the necromancer flinched away, hanging his head. 

“Sorry,” Keith choked, followed by a few coughs.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Lance said. He glanced back to the others. The fire had extinguished and he could hear Shiro arguing as well as Hunk’s growls. “Just go. Be safe. I’ll find you when we work this out.”

Keith sadly shook his head. His eyes glistened. 

“Goodbye, Lance.” 

His words pierced Lance’s heart. It felt like a forever farewell and it sucked the life out of his chest. Lance realized Keith didn’t think he’d be coming back. He wanted to argue, to hold him here and tell him off for even considering they wouldn’t see each other again. He was such an idiot for thinking he wouldn’t go after him. 

But then Keith ducked into the brush, igniting it. The trees cracked and strained. 

They couldn’t follow him. 

Lance couldn’t follow him. 

He dropped his water, allowing it to pool beneath his feet. He refused to extinguish the growing fire around them; he wouldn't follow Keith if it meant putting him in danger. He took a shaky breath and faced the group.

“--could you, Shiro! You put the entire team in danger!” Allura screamed. “You should’ve  _ told _ us. I never would’ve allowed for him to--”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Shiro said. Lance eyed him. He was strangely calm; no, he was cold and authoritative. “He’s my brother and I asked him to come along on this mission before we met you and Coran, before we knew necromancers aided the Galra.” Allura growled. “But Keith isn’t like that. He wouldn’t purposefully hurt someone.”

“So you admit he’s hurt someone before,” she snapped.

“I never said that.”

“But you implied it.” She turned away from him. “How do you know he won't turn on us? How do you know he hasn’t already sided with them? He could be a spy!”

“Keith would never do that,” he seethed. 

“And how would you know this? You hadn’t seen him for cycles during your imprisonment.” Shiro froze. Allura either didn’t care or didn’t notice. “He could’ve--”

“That’s enough!” Lance yelled, stepping between the two. He was worried for Shiro and pissed at Allura. She couldn’t talk to him like that; he’s only protecting his brother. 

“And you!” Allura shouted, marching right up to Lance. “You defended him.” Her eyes searched his, blank until realization crossed them. She stepped back. “You knew as well.”

Lance nodded. “I knew. And he doesn’t deserve this distrust.”

“Lance?” Hunk quietly asked. He turned to see his best friend cradling Pidge to his chest while Coran stood above them. His face was crushed with betrayal, his brown eyes glimmering. “You didn’t tell me?”

“I’m so sorry, Hunk. I couldn’t,” he pleaded. He shook his head, determination seeping into his words. “I couldn’t.” 

Shiro walked over and placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “And that isn’t your fault. I don’t blame anyone for their reactions today. I didn’t have the best reaction when I found out, but I learned the truth about necromancers through Keith. If all of you have the heart to hear him out, I promise he’s still the same Keith we’ve been living with for months.”

Lance looked to his friend’s faces. Silence. It was deafening, crushing. He didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t agree to at least try to understand Keith. Ignorance caused this situation and only knowledge could dig them out of it. They had to agree; they just had to. But as the seconds ticked by, Lance could feel the hope in his chest dwindling like the dying flames around them. 

“He…” Lance faltered. “He isn’t like the stories we grew up with. He’s _ not _ a monster or maggot eater. Keith isn’t evil. He doesn’t revel in death. He struggles a lot with it actually.”

“Keith has been through more than you can imagine because of his inclination,” Shiro added. “There’s more to the story of necromancy and he will tell you if you just give him a chance.”

A moment passed before Pidge spoke up, “Inclination?”

Shiro offered her a sad smile. “Necromancy isn’t the choice of the user. It comes about naturally like any other magickal preference. And it’s not an addiction either. We can’t tell him to stop because, well, he can’t. Asking him to do something like that would be like asking me to stop dreamwalking.” Shiro ran a hand through the white locks at his forehead. “All we are asking is for you to give Keith a chance. He’s the same person he was before you found out that he's a necromancer. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” Allura sneered. 

Lance faced her. “ _ Nothing _ has changed. Keith is still Keith. Mullet and all.”

Allura glared but didn’t retaliate. The clearing settled back into a tense silence. No one moved.

Until Coran stepped forward. “I would like to have a word with the boy.”

He walked to Shiro and Lance, wrapping an arm around the latter. The small affection made Lance want to cry. Coran was willing to listen. He might not like that Keith was a necromancer, but he would hear his story. He was never more grateful for the man.

Lance looked hopefully to Hunk and Pidge. While Hunk stayed sitting, Pidge shakily stood, brushing off his hands. They held their head high. 

“I’m sorry about…” They closed their eyes and took a shaky breath. “I reacted badly. I  _ know _ that Keith is still Keith. But I saw the runes and I acted irrationally.”

“A first,” Lance mumbled with a tired smile. 

They huffed lightly. “This is the first time I’ll admit you’re right. I got scared and I want to say I’m sorry. If I just thought for a  _ second _ , then we wouldn’t be in this mess and no one would be mad at Keith and… and he wouldn’t have run away.” They wiped their eyes under their glasses before saying, “I--I’m sorry,” then rushing Shiro. He wrapped his arms around their thin frame, enveloping them completely as they sobbed into his shirt. The sight hurt Lance. He slowly approached and wrapped his arms around the two. They were so close to being whole again.

Lance looked up at Hunk who stood above them. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. But it still hurts.”

“We tell each other everything,” Lance said, “but this was one thing I had to keep to myself.”

Hunk lightly rolled his eyes. “I know. And you can keep things to yourself, I just wish you three had more trust in us. But you can start making up for that now.” He joined the hug, crushing everyone against his chest. Lance laughed in relief as he was squished between Hunk’s shoulder and Shiro’s arm, Pidge wiggling somewhere in the middle, but it cut off with a simple question from Coran.

“Princess?”

Lance saw her with hard eyes. She didn’t understand. She backed away and retreated into the forest. Coran sighed.

“She just needs time.”

\---

Coran stayed behind at camp to look after Allura. He promised he’d try to talk with her, to make her see reason, but he never promised results. Allura could be quite stubborn when she wanted to be: it made her a reliable leader, but weak to malleability. It’ll take time to change her mind about Keith. 

Shiro led the rest of the group toward a particular spot on the mountain, one he and Keith had agreed upon to be a meeting place if anything happened. The walk was silent… except for Hunk’s questions. 

“ _ Sooo _ ,” Hunk drew out, “does Keith like have raven familiar? Or vulture? Or crow?”

“No,” Shiro answered.

“Okay, okay.” Then silence for a few moments. “Are zombies real?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would Keith know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay… What about maggots? Are maggots involved in his whole magickal necromantic thing?”

“Gods, I hope not.”

“No,” Lance answered. “Keith hates maggots.”

Hunk fired question after question at an alarming rate. Shiro and occasionally Lance would answer them to the best of their abilities, but the more he asked, the more evident it became that only Keith could definitively answer many of his questions. The more he asked, the more Lance noticed the silence of one little witch-familiar. 

Lance slowed his gait until he walked by Pidge who trudged on in silence. It was unlike them to not join Hunk in a jumble of questions about something new and interesting. Their head was somewhere else and Lance could tell cause they flinched when he cleared his throat. 

“Ya know, you might want to listen in on Hunk’s questioning. Might save you the trouble of asking later,” he joked. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” they monotonously replied. 

Lance sadly smiled. Regret and guilt marred their features: the furrow of their brows and the pull of their frown, but especially their drowning amber eyes. He imagined he looked similar after he attacked Keith. “Don’t worry too much. We’ll get him back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but it’s the most likely possibility and you’re all about statistics, right?”

They shrugged. “Yeah, but… what if he doesn’t want to come back? I fucked up so badly.”

Lance loudly gasped, covering his heart with his hands. “Don’t let Shiro hear you using that language. He’ll bind your tongue and maybe even curse you into saying good words.”

“Oh please, there’s no such thing as a good or bad word. Just words attributed with good or bad connotations completely conjured by society and--” They stopped abruptly then elbowed a smug Lance in the gut. “Good try.”

Lance choked on his breath. Pidge has bony elbows, duly noted. 

“Hey,” he gasped, “I got your mind off brooding for a few seconds. I’ll count that as a victory.”

“I’m brooding for a reason,” Pidge defended. 

“Yeah, of course, but for a reason Keith would roll his eyes at,” he commented lightly, smiling when Pidge’s brows furrowed further. He poked them, watching their eyes cross as they followed his finger. “You better stop that or you’re going to get wrinkles.”

Pidge huffed and swatted his hand away, but the lines did disappear. “What do you mean? He probably hates me right now. I saw him practicing and immediately flipped shit. I didn’t  _ think _ . I just saw all the stories we were told as kids instead of my friend.”

Lance was quiet for a moment. That had been his initial reaction too. He had seen Keith’s magick and his mind had tunneled: he was no longer Keith but an evil necromancer, one that his uncle wouldn’t have hesitated to kill. The scary stories and nightmares of his childhood had come rushing back, blinding him to the fear, the acceptance, and the despair written on his friend’s face. Even when Keith had stopped the peryton, his vendetta against necromancers had persisted. It wasn’t until hearing what would’ve been Keith’s final words had he stopped. 

Keith wanted to die; Keith had asked him to kill him. Then he almost left. 

Lance was determined to change Keith’s mind. These people loved him. And he would prove it. 

“Then say that,” Lance replied.

“Huh?”

“Say exactly that to him. Well, maybe not exactly, but you have to explain your thought process to him or else he won’t believe you,” Lance said. “I only found out last week. Suddenly Keith was no longer  _ Keith _ , just a necromancer. I reacted worse than you did, but after Keith said some pretty heavy stuff, I realized that I had been threatening my friend. And even after I apologized, he was going to leave.”

“But he didn’t,” Pidge said.

“Yeah, cause I apologized immensely and convinced him to stay despite his fear that someone else would find out his secret,” Lance said before darkly chuckling. “I guess he was right. Not even two weeks later and here we are.”

“I didn’t mean to find out,” Pidge quietly said. They shrugged their shoulders before crossing their arms. “I noticed him running off a lot lately. More than usual and I was curious. I thought something was wrong.”

Lance stopped them for a moment, placing both hands on their shoulders and looking into their eyes. Stars, Pidge was really putting themself through it; their eyes glistened like melting honey. They needed to hear this. “Don’t feel guilty about being worried over your friend,” he said. “You cannot regret going after him when you thought he wasn’t okay. The very fact that you were worried about him proves that you are a good person. Yes, you did not react well to finding out Keith is a necromancer, but no one has. It’s hard to get over something so ingrained in us. We all just have to work on accepting Keith for being himself. And I know you’ll try the most out of all of us.”

Pidge’s bottom lip began to tremble. Oh stars, if Pidge started crying, Lance would cry. He pulled them into him, cradling them against his chest, rocking them until their tears began to stain his shirt. He rested his head on theirs. 

“Learning he’s a necromancer unlocks so many things about him. He suddenly made sense. So apologize like you want, be authentic, but remember that Keith has had this happen to him before with me and with Shiro and with other people in his life. He…” Lance hesitated, remembering the look on Keith’s face as he encouraged Lance to kill him. A pang traveled through his heart. “He’s not going to be in a good place when we catch up to him. Shiro and I can help him, but you’re going to have to step up and make it clear that you aren’t afraid of him, but especially that you won’t hurt him. He needs reassurance that you don’t hate him.”

Pidge shook their head, their glasses digging into Lance’s chest. He ran his fingers through her hair. “I could never hate Keith,” they mumbled into his shirt.

“But you also ran in terror from him,” he reminded. “All he knows right now is that you saw him practicing and ran. And then he got attacked. He doesn’t know that we are looking for him to get him to come back. He might see us and think we tracked him down to hurt him.”

“I…” she faltered, closing her eyes for a moment. “This is my fault. I regret running. So I’ll tell him that. I’ll explain everything and I’ll beg him to come home.” They paused for a moment. “We would never hurt him.”

Suddenly Lance was back in that field, icy dagger over Keith. The necromancer had sat there, refusing to fight, accepting his death. His friend was ready to die and he wouldn’t fight back. Lance didn’t miss the disappointment in his tired eyes when he collapsed in front of him. 

Lance swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “He’s expecting a fight. And he’ll refuse to be a part of it.”

“Lance, what do you mean?”

“Pidge, Lance!” 

Both of them whipped their heads towards Shiro and Hunk. They had fallen behind while talking, but as soon as Lance saw the distress on Hunk’s face he grabbed Pidge’s hand and bolted for them only stopping when Shiro’s arm prevented him from going further. They stood on the edge of burnt grass and cracking trees. Smoke steadily rose from the stripping bark and the curled bushes and flames still flickered on dried leaves. Lance could feel the heat on his face, reddening his cheeks. 

“What happened?” Lance breathed, though he already knew the answer: Keith had lost control. Everything was ash. It looked too much like the last training field; the same withering plants, the same acrid smell, the same fear pooling in Lance’s gut. His breath hitched as images of the fiery peryton flashed across his vision, but he shook it off and pulled back from Shiro. 

He’s  _ not _ scared of Keith.

“Keith and I agreed to meet here by that gnarled tree if anything went wrong,” Shiro softly said, ignoring Lance’s question. It was quite obvious what had happened. Shiro turned to the crater of ash, gently stepping on blackened grass. “Keith!” he shouted. “ _ Keith! _ ”

He called for his brother a few more times. Keith never answered.

“He’s not here,” Hunk morosely said, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro shook his head, turning his steel eyes on the group. He was determined. 

“We need to find him.”

“He can’t be far,” Lance said. “It’s as hot as the sun here. Must have went up in flames not too long ago. Hey, big man, can you sniff him out?”

Hunk sadly shook his head. “I can try, but with all the smoke, my nose isn’t going to be much help.”

“What about a bird’s eye view?” Pidge suggested, coming up from behind Lance. “The trees are thinner here. I might be able to see him.”

Lance didn’t like the idea of Pidge flying around with all the smoke obstructing their vision, especially with how emotionally distressed they were, but they were desperate. They needed to find Keith before he disappeared. It was the only plan they had. 

Shiro nodded, but warned them to be careful, giving them a quick hug. And with that they were off, her owl form soaring above the trees. Lance watched as they circled above them a few times before darting off. Lance gasped. 

“They found him.”

The three men raced through the trees, dodging shrubs and roots, all while keeping an eye on Pidge. Until they disappeared, diving into the canopy. 

“Where’d they go?” Hunk asked. 

They looked through the trees, seeking gleaming glasses, a red shirt, a flick of a flame.

“Keith, wait!” they heard Pidge distantly shout. 

Lance stomach rolled. He was sprinting in the direction of their voice immediately. Then he saw them: Keith cowering, curled up under a tree, with Pidge above him. Their hands were out and open like they were trying to calm a scared animal. As he ran closer, Lance could see the pops of flame along Keith’s knuckles, both wrappings had disappeared from his hands, leaving his scars and wounds visible. 

“I’m sorry,” Pidge sobbed. “I’m so sorry.” 

Keith shook his head and backed further into the tree’s twisting roots. 

Lance stopped behind Pidge, as did Hunk and Shiro. 

Once Keith saw his brother, he called out, “Shiro.” His voice was raw and low and scraped against his throat painfully. Lance desperately wanted to gather him in his arms and whisper reassurances into his hair. He looked ragged: his hair was knotted with twigs and leaves, his clothing was chard and smoking, and his eyes looked despondent. Both Shiro and Lance took a step forward, but Keith lifted his hands.

“Stop!” he shouted, fire danced along his finger tips. Then a bush burst into flames to their right. He groaned before violently coughing.

Lance’s eyes widened. He’s still not in control of his magick. 

“Pidge, back up,” he said.

“But--”

“Now,” he commanded. They hesitated, but took a few steps backward until Lance was able to grab them and shove them behind him. Shiro tried to get closer again.

“Keith,” he said. “You’re all right. No one is going to hurt you.” Keith shook his head in denial, biting his bottom lip before coughing again. 

“Too much. Too much,” Keith ground out. 

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked, taking another slow step forward. Lance could only watch, holding his friends behind him. He wanted to help, but Shiro had dealt with this for much longer than he had. He knew what he was doing. Yet Lance’s heart still rattled his ribs. 

“Magick,” Keith gasped. He gripped his stomach. A tree suddenly went up in flames. “Too much.” 

Shiro shook his head in confusion. Lance thought back to the conversations he had with Keith and the practice sessions he had observed. The first time Keith had dragged him into the forest, he had transferred the life energies between two bushes: he took the energy of one and gave it to another. When Keith summoned the peryton and other animals in the clearing, he had burnt the clearing to a crisp beforehand. 

Lance’s eyes widened. Keith took all the life energy from the meeting point he had set up with Shiro. There were no skeletons nor live plants nor animals among the blackened trees. Keith hadn’t released any of the magick he had absorbed. 

“Shiro, he needs to flush it out.” Shiro shook his head, taking another step forward and ignoring Lance’s comment. He huffed, annoyed. Shiro’s hugs and reassurances weren’t going to fix the problem: Keith was in trouble and his friends were in danger. They needed to think through this. “ _ Listen _ , Keith, you need to release it. You need to put it back.”

“Can’t,” he gasped. Lance could see how hard Keith ground his teeth, clenched his jaw. It pulsed. “Too much. Haven’t. Practiced like this.”

“You’re going to have to try,” encouraged Lance. Another bush ignited a little too close. Pidge yelped and Keith flinched. The latter buried his head in his knees, shaking. 

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he mumbled, hugging himself and inching closer to the trunk as if it would absorb him and take him away from everything. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Shiro softly said. A patch of grass ignited. Then a sprout. Keith’s magick was releasing with more frequency. Lance watched as Shiro crouched next to Keith, who was shaking. His breaths were uneven and raw and the glimpse Lance caught of his eyes showed pure terror. He was huffing and groaning in pain. Lance’s uneasy feeling ricocheted in his chest.

“Shiro,” he warned, but again he was ignored. 

“Keith, you’re alright. I’m here,” Shiro assured, moving a few inches closer. Keith leaned away feebly, shaking his head. He was mouthing something, but no words escaped him. Shiro reached out a hand; it was steady even as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple. His fingertips skimmed Keith’s shoulder.

Then Keith burst into flame.

Shiro screamed. It was raw and hurt and wounded. He fell to the roots as Keith screamed along with him. Fire consumed him, it’s flames reaching past the canopy of leaves. Lance pushed his friends down, even as Pidge scrambled for Shiro. Lance held on to them while suspending a blanket of water above them; it steamed with heat and in seconds they were coated in a layer of sweat. 

Keith’s breath ran out. Within the flames, he clawed at his throat as the fire consumed the air around him. The fire licked at the surrounding trees and grass, but never travelled from the boy within them. They were contained. Keith was containing them. 

It all happened so fast. Soon the flames pulsed and bled away. 

Keith collapsed. Immediately Lance was up and ready to run for him, but Hunk grabbed his wrist.

“ _ Lance _ ,” he warned. Lance turned, staring down at his terrified friends. Pidge trembled in Hunk’s hold and the big man looked on the verge of tears. 

“I gotta make sure they’re okay,” he said.

“Lance, no. We shouldn’t--we can’t,” Hunk nervously stumbled. Gently he wrapped his fingers around Hunk’s grip, easing off his hand.

“Don’t worry.”

In a few seconds, Lance was at Keith’s side. The boy’s eyes were slits, drooping around the violet within. He looked haggard: half his clothes were burnt and his skin was as pale as the moon. He shook as he reached for his brother.

“Keith,” Lance breathed as his knelt by his side.

He shook his head in reply. “Sh’ro. Elp ‘im.” Lance ignored his request, moving toward him, but he flinched away and his eyes snapped open. He was terrified.

“Okay, okay,” Lance conceded, backing away. “I’ll check Shiro first.”

It was hard to pull away, hard to leave Keith vulnerable and alone, even if he was only a few feet away. Lance slowly crawled toward Shiro, scared of what he would see. Keith must be devastated; he had burnt his brother. Shiro was too close not to have been affected by his fire. Whether the burns were substantial or not, Keith wasn’t going to recover from this whole ordeal easily. 

The older man was out cold, slumped on his side haphazardly. As gently as he could, Lance rolled him onto his back. Despite being so close to Keith when he exploded, he wasn’t engulfed in burns and blistering skin. He didn’t wake, but he also didn’t seem distressed, maybe a little too calm. Lance checked his pulse: he was alive. The witch slumped in relief, gathered himself, then got to work with checking him over, though there wasn’t much to do.

But then Lance got to his arm.

His black sleeves had been seared away, only remnants lingering on his skin--if he could call it that. 

“Lance?” 

He looked up to Pidge standing above them both and Hunk nervously fidgeting behind them. Pidge’s eyes were trained on Shiro’s arm. 

“I… I don’t know…” Lance faltered, glancing back down. He doesn’t understand.

Shiro’s skin wasn’t burnt or blistered, but chard. Edges were blackened but still smooth. Pale skin gave way to black then to glinting metal. 

Pidge shakily knelt next to Lance. “Human tech,” they breathed. Carefully they skimmed their fingers over it.

“What--What does that mean?” Hunk nervously asked while winding his fingers together. “How could Shiro--Why does Shiro have human tech? Is it his whole arm?” He gasped. “What if it’s all of him? Are the humans working with the fae? Oh, we’re doomed. So--”

“Hunk,” Pidge berated. They worked their trembling fingers over Shiro’s arm, working their way up to his shoulder than chest. They sat back. “It stops after his shoulder. I can check the rest after he wakes up.”

Lance swallowed. What did it mean? Did Shiro always have a robotic arm? He shook his head. They didn’t need to worry about this right now. Shiro was hurt and Keith was hurting. 

“Look we can deal with this later,” Lance said. “The priority now is to get him back to camp.” 

Pidge added, “The tech must have sensory receptors and an artificial neural network. He felt pain… A lot of it. I don’t know if he’ll feel the burns when he wakes up.”

“We’ll prepare for that,” Lance said. “Dreamwalkers are known for how comatose they can get after a major injury. He needs a few hours. Hunk, get him back to camp. I’ll meet you guys there.” He turned to check on Keith, but Pidge interrupted him.

“I’m staying.”

“Pidge--”

“No! This is all my fault,” they cried. “This is my fault. Shiro, Keith, Allura--that’s all on me. I’m helping Keith.” Lance hesitated. Keith was going to be scared as shit of himself right now. Adding Pidge to the mix won’t help his mental state. “You said that Keith needs to hear how I feel about him. So let me.”

Stars, he couldn’t argue against his own words. 

“Fine, but you stay by me. If he gets too overwhelmed, you leave, got it?” 

They nodded quickly.

Pidge and Lance then helped Shiro into Hunk’s arms. He reassured them he knew the way back and made them promise to be careful before trudging through the trees. 

Lance turned to find Keith… not where he left him. 

“ _ Stars _ ,” he cursed. Keith couldn’t have gotten far; he was on the verge of consciousness when he was checking on Shiro. Lance made a lap around the large tree and he didn’t even need to make the full lap. The pyro witch was only on the other side of the trunk he had tried to melt into beforehand. He was curled up against it. And crying quietly. 

Lance ushered Pidge behind him before approaching Keith.

“Hey,” he whispered. He wasn’t granted a coherent reply: just a sniffle. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head.

“It’s okay that you’re not okay. A lot happened.” Lance crouched down and waited a moment before saying, “Shiro is okay. You didn’t hurt him.”

A cry caught in Keith’s throat. He shook his head in denial.

“No, really. He’s fine. His walker reflexes kicked in, so he’s a little comatose right now, but he’ll be fine when he wakes up.” Lance decided mentioning the human tech attached to his brother’s shoulder wasn’t something Keith needed to hear right now, whether or not he knew about it. In that moment, yes, Shiro had been hurt, but physically he really wasn’t. The tech wasn’t even damaged externally. All Shiro wanted to do was protect his brother. And know that he wasn’t here, that duty fell to Lance. “He’ll want to see you when he wakes.”

Keith shook his head. “Leaving.”

“Not this again,” Lance tutted. He scooted a little closer. “We’ve already been over this: you’re staying. Everyone wants you to stay.”

“Don’t lie,” Keith said, rubbing at his swollen, red eyes. 

“He’s not,” Pidge interjected, moving to sit by Lance. Keith scooted back, his glassy eyes taking them in. Their bottom lip trembled. “I’m so sorry,” they cried.

“‘S fine,” he said, turning his head away.

“It’s not!” Keith flinched back. Pidge reached out their hands for him, but Lance held them back, shaking his head. They glanced between them before deflating. “I’m sorry, it’s not. What I did was terrible. I judged you for the stories I heard about necromancers and not as my friend. I  _ know _ that you aren’t like the scary stories and not like the monsters the adults remember. I’m sorry.”

“... but with--Galra,” he strained. 

“What about them? So what some necromancers allied themselves with the Galra? You’re here. You’re with us,” they argued.

Keith shook his head, denying Pidge’s words. It got them worked up. Tears threatened to spill past their eyes.

“You’re Keith. You’re irrational and quick to anger. You like to fight and you’re good at it and I laugh every time you throttle Lance. Your fire is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. The stories you tell at night with it get spun in my dreams.” Their breath hitched. A tear escaped, running down their cheek. 

“But… I hurt people,” he rasped. 

“No, you don’t,” they denied, shaking their head and getting frustrated. “You care about people. You saw me alone at the Leo Coven. With those bullies. And you stood up for me. You scared them away and took care of me. That’s who I should’ve judged when I saw you practicing today. You were… You were my first friend. My only friend. And I lost you. For years. Please don’t make me lose another brother. Please,  _ Keith. _ ”

Lance wanted so desperately to pull Pidge into him, but he wasn’t who they needed. He looked to Keith. He had uncurled from the trunk, his violet eyes drowning in tears and his hair mussed up. He bit his lip, looking hesitant, but opening his arms. Lance’s mouth dropped open in shock. It took Pidge a few more seconds to register what he meant, but once they did, they were scrambling for Keith’s open arms. He grunted when they collided.

“I’m sorry. Keith, I’m so sorry,” they sobbed. “I messed up, but I love you, I love you. Please.  _ Stay _ . We all want you to stay, please. I promise I’ll listen to everything you want to tell me, even if it’s nothing at all.”

Slowly Keith relaxed into their hold, lazily resting his head on their light brown hair. 

“Say you’ll stay,” Pidge softly said. “We can go back to camp, check on Shiro. Hunk can make your favorite and we can watch the stars like we used to. Please, Keith?”

Keith looked to Lance, hesitance written on his face. He didn’t know what to do.

Lance nodded in encouragement. Keith couldn’t be alone right now. And everyone would be crushed if he were to disappear. Lance would follow after him if he tried to run; Keith probably knew he would. An idea struck. 

“You still haven’t forgiven me,” Lance added with a sad smile. “You can’t leave if you haven’t forgiven me and if you do I’ll just follow and nag you until you come back and forgive me properly.”

Pidge nodded her head, burying it into Keith’s chest. “Same here.”

Keith pressed Pidge further into himself. He huffed out a hot breath. 

“Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll stay.”

Lance could laugh in relief. Instead he collapsed on his back into the grass. They still had a lot to talk about and work through, but he would count this as a big victory: everyone now knew and Keith wasn’t running. Lance smiled.

Keith wasn’t running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so how was that? i haven't written anything this long for one work/chapter before
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! and possibly cried... if you did lmk and i'll try to make you do it again


	2. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keith,” Shiro rasped. But Keith only shook his head and looked down at his fingers encircling his wrist. His breath hitched at the sight. In shock, he ripped his hand from Shiro’s grip and fell away. “Keith? What’s wrong?”
> 
> Drowsily Shiro sat up and yawned. His hair stuck up on the back of his head and sleep clung to his movements. He was slow to take in Keith’s tense shoulders and wide eyes, which never left his hand. Shiro followed his gaze. His breath punched out of him.
> 
> His hand. His arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo this was supposed to be a separate fic but i felt that it fit better as an additional chapter so take it! cherish it! revel in keith whump cause things dont get better for him!

“Shiro,” Keith breathed before collapsing next to his brother, who lay prone on a clean sleeping roll in a makeshift medical tent. Lance hovered behind him uncertainly. Keith could feel his gaze like a physical weight pressing down on his shoulders. He slumped over Shiro, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” face pressed to his chest and hands stinging as they clung to his burnt shirt. 

“Keith,” Lance softly said.

“Get away,” he snapped. A warm, prickling feeling began behind his eyes, but he refused to cry again; the dried tears from less than an hour ago stained his face and he would _not_ paint them on his cheeks again. This was his fault. Shiro’s in pain and comatose because of him.

“C’mon, man--”

“I said leave,” he said harshly. He bit his lip afterward, regretting his tone. Lance was concerned. He shouldn’t be lashing out at the one other person he trusts right now, but everything was too much. It all happened so quickly. Pidge’s frantic, terrified yells and Shiro’s pained screams. They echoed in his head and no amount of reassurances from Lance or Pidge could silence them. He needed time to process and Lance’s presence wasn’t helping. “I need… I need space. Please.”

Lance stood in silence for a few moments. Keith thought he might refuse to leave, fight him on it and dig his heels in, but he only said, “I’ll be back later to redress your hands,” and then Keith heard the sound of the tent flap and he was gone. 

Then it was him and Shiro. And Keith felt lonely in a way he hadn’t with his brother in years. 

How could he face him? How could he look Shiro in the eye ever again? He _hurt_ his family. His only family. And now he just agreed to stay here like that? A few heartfelt words from Pidge and a jibe from Lance and that was it? He said he’d stay? He had let his emotions get the better of him again and in the aftermath, he realized it was the wrong decision. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t deserve to be here.

With a few unsteady breaths, Keith released Shiro. He turned from his brother, making to get up, before something snagged his wrist. His head turned. His wide eyes met Shiro’s. 

“Keith,” Shiro rasped. But Keith only shook his head and looked down at his fingers encircling his wrist. His breath hitched at the sight. In shock, he ripped his hand from Shiro’s grip and fell away. “Keith? What’s wrong?”

Drowsily Shiro sat up and yawned. His hair stuck up on the back of his head and sleep clung to his movements. He was slow to take in Keith’s tense shoulders and wide eyes, which never left his hand. Shiro followed his gaze. His breath punched out of him.

His hand. His _arm_. 

“Shiro,” Keith murmured. Shiro’s eyes whipped from his flexing fingers to Keith and back again. He floundered, his mouth gaping like a fish. His arm was gone--well, not _gone_ ; there was an arm, but it was glinting in the candlelight of the tent with faux muscles and nerves. Fake skin still clung to the metal that stretched to his shoulder. “Shi--”

“No,” Shiro gasped. “ _Nonononono_.” Keith watched as his brother curled over his knees, grasping his whip of white hair with his flesh hand while his breath hitched. Shiro spiralled quickly. 

Keith didn’t know what to do.

Shiro was panicking and he didn’t know _what to do._ He’s brought back to the shack, to the restless nights and the screams and the shaking, and he didn’t know how to help then but he had tried anyway; he had held his brother and whispered into his ear and wiped the sweat and tears from his face. On their travels in this pocket, he had learned how to soothe him best, attuned himself to Shiro’s body and whimpers and cries. He hadn’t known what he was doing, but he tried and tried and tried until it was instinct and all Shiro had to do was freeze and Keith knew what was wrong. And he could help.

But that was before he _hurt_ him. 

Now Keith warred with himself: to stay or to flee. 

He looked to Shiro, saw his shaking shoulders and withdrawn eyes and heard his hitching breath, but he couldn’t comprehend. He saw his brother yet couldn’t _see_ how to help him. He could’ve caused this; Shiro could be panicking about him. And he couldn’t place a trigger in front of his brother because it would only make it worse. 

He should leave. 

Shiro sobbed. 

But his heart wouldn’t let him.

Keith turned toward Shiro and his brief resolved crumbled. _But what if he caused this?_

And despite the split in his chest, he turned to leave. A whisper stopped him.

“ _Keith_.”

It was broken, choppy, like a stuttering wave. His name escaped Shiro’s dried lips and crashed onto his shore. It was murmured like a plea, not a curse: his knuckles popped. 

“Shiro?” Keith thickly said, bringing his violet eyes to steel. Shiro’s eyes were clear, if only for a moment, like a drowning man taking a breath. They held emotion, too many for Keith to individually parse out, but he understood: there was fear, hurt, distress and yet love and need. Then his eyes glazed. 

Keith knew what he had to do.

Quickly he was at Shiro’s side. There was touch and comfort, enough to feel but not to suffocate. His loving touches contrasted whatever Shiro’s mind had conjured. Keith whispered into his hair, brushed the sweat from his face, moved his glinting arm from his sight. He’d deal with it later. 

Keith held his brother. He cradled him to his chest and recounted stories about anything and everything, but especially how strong his big brother was, how brave he is to be here, how his life wouldn’t be anything without him. He told Shiro of all he did for him from gifting him those berries to making him laugh after years of silence to absolutely refusing to let him bury himself under all the guilt of simply being born. Keith hugged him close.

Through Keith’s stories, Shiro calmed. He shifted on his own, grasping Keith with his flesh hand, noticeably refusing to budge the other. He burrowed further into his brother and took his time coming back to himself. 

“I’m s’rry,” Shiro muttered. Keith shushed him.

“Don’t apologize,” Keith said. His chest tightened. Images of his fire, the looks on his friends’ faces, Shiro’s scream; everything from that moment bombarded Keith. It’s all in focus yet vague, but the pit in his stomach burrowed and clawed at his insides. “I should…” he gasped. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Shiro grunted before finally raising his head to look at Keith and though Keith was the one cradling him, he felt so small and insignificant. Shiro was his big brother. And this moment was visceral under his heavy gaze. 

“I’m sorry. So sorry,” Keith thickly said. He shook his head, averting his gaze and allowing his bangs to cover his face. “I didn’t mean to… I _hurt_ you and I--your _arm_ \--”

“No, no, Keith,” Shiro interrupted. He pulled away from Keith, leaving him but quickly returning to wrap his arm around his brother. “You were scared and hurt. And I didn’t realize what had been happening with your magick. It’s not your fault.”

“But--”

“You _told_ me to get away and I should have listened,” Shiro pushed. He hollowly laughed. “I have that habit of pushing when I shouldn’t, huh?” He tried to catch Keith’s eye from under his bangs, but then resigned himself to moving them himself. His fingers caught the silky strands and brushed them away until all he could see was overwhelming violet. Deep and remorseful. “Hey, I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” Keith argued. “I _burned_ you.”

“But you didn’t. Not really.” Slowly Shiro lifted his metal arm. Both men shied away from it. 

“What… What happened?” Keith hesitantly asked, but he didn’t know exactly what he was referring to: what happened to your arm, what happened when you were imprisoned, what happened right then. “You saw your arm. Then you were gone again.”

“I… remembered.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“My memories. They--well, some came back from… with my arm. They took my arm. I never even… I didn’t notice,” Shiro shakily explained before shaking his head and deflecting. “I’m sorry you had to deal with another episode.”

“I never deal with them. You do. You aren’t a burden.”

“And neither are you,” Shiro countered. Silence hung between them, thick and heavy. There was too much to say and not enough room to say it as the brothers huddled together. Shiro gave Keith a squeeze. “You stayed.”

Keith shook his head. “I couldn’t just leave you here. Not like that.”

“No,” Shiro said. “You _stayed_. You’re here. The others brought you back to camp and you didn’t run.”

“I…” 

But what could Keith say? 

He had been about to leave the tent, the camp, possibly the pocket. The option still weighed on his mind. Pidge had forgiven him for being, well, himself. But that was only temporary. Pidge was analytical. Once they counted all the dangerous ways he couldn’t handle himself around the group, their bound to take back their words. He’d be kicked out only in a matter of hours once they’d side with the Alteans. Lance and Shiro couldn’t be expected to take on the entire group. They already shook the boat after his magick was revealed in camp and he couldn’t ask them to do it again. He wouldn’t. 

Keith would be gone before any of that happened. 

“No, I didn’t,” he said.

“Keith, I--”

“Allura! Don’t!” Lance shouted, his voice booming outside. 

Keith jolted against Shiro as the tent flap flung open to reveal a fuming princess. Her marks glinted on her cheeks as she grasped Keith’s tattered shirt and ripped him from Shiro’s grasp. Both brothers were stunned. Keith was pulled from the tent.

The afternoon sun blinded Keith as scrambled for Allura’s wrist, desperately trying to right his footing. _Damn fae strength._

“Put him down, Allura.” Keith blinked through the unbidden tears to see Lance squaring up to Allura yards away. His face was severe, challenging; he shouldn’t be standing up for Keith. Didn’t he know this was going to happen anyway? Why was he fighting her?

Allura tossed Keith to the ground carelessly. He landed on his front with a grunt, gasping at the hard impact on his hands. They pulsed in pain. He stayed down. His energy had been drained from his escape through the forest and the expulsion of the energy he had absorbed. And he couldn’t fight against her. How could he when she was just trying to protect everyone else?

“What’s going on?” Shiro asked from behind them. Keith glanced over his shoulder. Shiro had emerged from the tent with lidded eyes and on weak legs; he was still recovering from his unexpected coma. It hadn’t been long, but his mind had shut down to focus on healing something that wasn’t there, something made of metal and magick. His mind, as well as his body, was bound to be out of sorts, especially after his episode. Shiro shouldn’t be pushing himself.

“Stop,” Keith rasped. Shiro’s eyes lazily flickered to his brother on the floor before slowly shaking his head. 

“Allura, explain,” he said. 

Lance answered instead. “She’s going to hurt Keith.”

“No, I’m going to question a necromancer,” Allura sneered. “He knows something. He ran after Pidge when they discovered what he was to eliminate them and when he was not skilled enough to stop them before they reached camp, he fled. Probably to seek shelter with the Galra. Then when you and Pidge retrieved him and reinstated his status in the group, he decided to remain here. If he was still trusted then he could continue to relay information to the Galra about us. Can’t you see? He’s with _them_. The monsters that destroyed my people.”

“None of that is true,” Shiro scoffed. Slowly he inched his way around Allura toward Lance, the man meeting him halfway, placing Keith between the opposing forces. Shiro leaned heavily on Lance. “You have no truth to your words. Only speculation and an excuse to lash out on the nearest vulnerable person.”

“ _Vulnerable_ ,” she mocked. “A necromancer is anything but vulnerable. They took thousands of Altean lives alongside the Galra.” She jutted her finger toward Keith who laid still beneath her. “He could kill us all on a whim. The only reason he hasn’t is because the events of this day have drained him. I can feel it. His quintessence is diminished. It’s the perfect opportunity to get some answers. Starting with this.” 

Allura thrust her hand into the pouch at her hip before throwing down a small book. It landed in front of Shiro’s and Lance’s feet, cushioned by the green grass; the contents of the book contrasted greatly with its surroundings. Lance picked it up, his fingers skimming the scratched out title. He easily opened it and Keith cursed the weak binding spell around it. He should’ve reinforced it before bringing it on their mission.

“There are a few folded corners, but the one worn out to the point of almost tearing is a communication spell,” she said.

Lance flicked the pages before landing on it. Keith bowed his head. He knew the spell she was referencing, the one that Lance’s eyes skimmed over. Ever since he had found it, he had agonized about attempting it. It’s the spell he’d been about to perform before Pidge interrupted; a way to finally apologize to his pop.

Lance shook his head. “This is a spell to communicate with the dead, not the living,” he said, sneering at her. Keith had never been so happy that Lance was an idiot. The other witch knew Keith was an orphan but obviously hadn’t put the two together; however, Shiro now looked at him with wide eyes filled with sorrow. Not pity, never pity from him. But his gaze bore into him and made him feel transparent and vulnerable. He was uncomfortable, but in a second Shiro’s face shuttered and the look was replaced by a raging glare directed at one Altean princess. “Whatever you’re implying doesn’t make any sense.”

“Witches are so simple minded!” Allura yelled. “I saw the runes and summoning ingredients. He’s relaying information to the other necromancers through an intermediate. He can’t be here.”

“Allura, think about what you’re accusing Keith of,” Shiro shouted. Though slowly he was regaining his movement, Lance carried some of his weight. Despite the two huddled together, the dreamwalker’s stance was intimidating, challenging, though not enough for Allura to back down. “He’s never been to this pocket, much less met another necromancer.”

“That you know of! If anything because of your belief, he’d be free from suspicion. The perfect spy.”

“Holy crow! We didn’t even mean to run into you when we got here!” Lance squawked while grabbing his hair and twisting it in his hand. “How did you even come up with this? Did you waste all your time brooding today on conspiracy theories instead of accepting Keith for who he is?”

“I know who he is!” she boomed. Keith flinched at her outburst, lowering himself further to the ground. He had to go along with her. They both wanted the same thing: for him to leave. He couldn’t stay here and hurt someone else. Allura was only trying to protect her friends, yet despite that reassurance, her accusations pierced his heart more than he expected. “He’s a monster, a killer. His people allied themselves with the Galra and attacked and killed countless Alteans. Murders! All he is an evil _necromancer_ bound to get us all killed either by his own hand or his brethrens’.”

“He is a _person_ deserving of trust!” Shiro countered. “He’s done more for me than I could ever express in words and more for this team. You _know_ he is a good person. You’re just refusing to see it so that you can take out your anger on the closest thing related to the Galra.”

“Yeah! You’re being a pretty rotten princess, princess,” Lance snootily said. 

“Why is Allura rotten?”

All their heads snapped toward Pidge and Hunk standing side by side, both with furrowed brows and tight lips.

 _Oh no_ , Keith thought. 

“Why is Keith on the floor?” they continued. “Why is Lance defending him? And how is Shiro out of his _coma_ without anyone telling me?” Each inquiry felt like an accusation rather than genuine question. Keith knew this was his fault. The fighting wouldn’t have occurred if he had comforted Shiro faster, if he had been better at bringing his brother out of his panics. He could’ve been out of the tent and into the forest before Allura began marching toward him. Then no one would be at each others’ throats, Pidge wouldn’t be leveling everyone with a look, and Hunk wouldn’t be about to cry. Why does he make everything worse?

“Pidge, I am simply questioning the necromancer,” Allura explained, her voice haughty yet diplomatic.

“Uh, no,” they said, crossing their arms as menacingly as a fifteen year old could. “You’re fighting with Lance and Shiro and accusing Keith, who by the way looks extremely uncomfortable on the ground, of being in line with the Galra.”

Allura turned her head away and huffed, her nose pointed up. “How I conduct my interrogation is none of your concern.”

“It is when it concerns the safety of my friend.”

“You’re friend is a traitor.”

“My friend is loyal. More so than you’ll ever be.”

“Pidge, stop,” Keith said slightly in shock. He didn’t expect them to _defend_ him. Their apologies were meant to be temporary. Hadn’t they had enough time to think this through? His people were partially responsible for the imprisonment of their brother and father. They’re the reason they were so insistent and willing to go along with this mission. They’d be safe and home and with their family if it weren’t for the Galra and the necromancers. Regardless of that aspect of their life, they should’ve realized he’d hurt them eventually. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t retracted their words from an hour earlier. Slowly he pushed himself up on his elbows. “It’s okay.”

“Buddy, you don’t look okay,” Hunk shyly said.

To which Pidge and Lance responded, “Ditto,” and “Yup, I agree.”

“No. I mean…” Keith struggled to push his thoughts into coherency. He was dangerous, a liability. He can’t fully control his necromantic fire and it’s already cost him: Lance almost died and Shiro, if not for his arm, would’ve been seriously hurt. It was only a matter of time before he injures or perhaps murders someone, especially now that he had been freely practicing. It’s bound to happen and the chances only go up the longer he stayed. He needed to leave. “Allura… She’s right.”

“Then you admit you’re a spy!” she yelled triumphantly. 

“No! I--I’m not a spy! I can’t… I meant--”

“Don’t try to take back your words, _traitor!_ ”

“But I’m not… I didn’t mean--ugh!”

Allura crushed him into the dirt with a knee to his spine, grinding it between his shoulder blades. Everyone jolted forward to stop her, but she was quick. She had both his arms behind his back at his wrists.

“Allura, what--” But Keith’s words caught in his throat as his eyes saw the glinting of cuffs in her free hand: suppression cuffs. Allura had magick-suppressing cuffs. The lulling panic building in Keith chest skyrocketed with the thumping of his heart. 

It hit Keith then. Allura didn’t want him to leave camp. She wanted a prisoner.

He began struggling against her grip, bucking and squirming, but her Altean strength crushed his wrists further. He’d be completely powerless with those cuffs. Everyone would be safe from his necromantic magick, but he’d be cut off from his fire, from his pop’s fire. He couldn’t let her take that away from him. But she was going to anyway.

Keith screamed igniting the air as a stream of fire escaped his lips and scorched the forest floor. It was weak. Allura was right about him being drained.

A cuff clicked onto one wrist. His fire sputtered out. Keith wailed in pain.

He desperately tried to curl into himself, but Allura’s grip never lessened. He dug his forehead into floor and gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as his breath frantically strained against his lungs. It was only one cuff, but ice rolled through his veins, extinguishing his spark. And it _hurt_. By stars, it hurt like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Worse than his burns, than losing his father, than losing Shiro. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and he knew it would get worse with the second cuff. 

Keith screwed his eyes shut, preparing for it, but suddenly Allura’s weight was gone. Somethings grunted and landed on his left so he scrambled to his right while clutching at his cuffed wrist as if it would somehow help. He pulled himself a few feet before collapsing. He glanced over his shoulder Lance and Shiro were on the ground and Allura stalked toward him. Fear washed over him. 

She was going to take his magick. She was going to question and hurt him. She was going to kill him if she snapped that other cuff in place.

Frantically he tried to summon his fire. It sputtered and fought against him but it flickered to life, though it wasn’t enough to stop the Altean who wiped the flames from the air. 

“Allura, no, _nononono_ ,” he said through clenched teeth as another wave of pain rolled through him. With one cuff, his fire wouldn’t save him, his necromancy wouldn’t save him. He pushed passed the magick violently swirling in his gut, further and further and further until there was nowhere else to go and nothing to latch onto but a string. Small and insignificant but something. Allura was only a few feet away with Pidge yelling behind her and Hunk growling to the side, when he tugged on it.

Keith exploded. 

Flashes of red assaulted his vision as his eyes rolled back. A roar shook his core, rattling his bones. It was overwhelming and encompassing and full, complete. There were feelings of anger, passion, hurt, protectiveness, _love_ . So much love. So much that Keith could dive in and drown and succumb. She told him to sleep, to be at peace, to be _safe calm pride pride love pridecubcubcub_. 

Keith slumped on the ground in exhaustion. 

He caught a glimpse of a red paw before his eyelids fluttered shut.

He slept to the calls of _love,_ of _pride,_ of _safe,_ of _cub cub cub._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope y'all are as worried for keith as i am cause oh boy he has some issues to work through especially after the shit allura pulled. pls share your thoughts. i live for comments!
> 
> idk when ill get the next chapter up as my semester is starting next week but hopefully itll be soon cause i got some ideas. also if you like the series pls subscribe to the series, not just the individual work. im very all over the place with what i add chapters to and what i make a separate fit so knowing when i update the series will be much easier for u. i promise youll thank me for it later.
> 
> also!! ive been binging atla and have been thinking of writing a fic with them in this world. they wont interact with vld characters; theyd have their own story probably in a different pocket. i was just curious if anyone was interested..?


	3. Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Better?” Lance awkwardly asked, blood warming his cheeks. Keith weakly scowled in response.
> 
> “What am I doing here?”
> 
> Lance eyed him warily, his stomach dropping. He knew he wouldn’t like where this conversation was headed. “What do you mean?”
> 
> Keith huffed before crossing his arms tiredly. “The princess. She wouldn’t… I shouldn’t be here.”
> 
> “False. This is the only place you’re meant to be,” Lance replied rather matter of factly. 

Lance couldn’t believe what had happened.

The situation with Allura and Keith had been handled. Sorta. Barely.

Keith hadn’t woken up since collapsing yesterday. He was now in the medical tent, taking up the roll Shiro had lain in, while Coran has Allura holed up in her tent on the opposite side of camp. 

The rest of them hovered somewhere in between the two: personally Lance couldn’t decide whether to wait by Keith’s bedside or go slap some sense into Allura. By Pidge’s constant fidgeting and annoyed grunts, they couldn’t either (though Lance would bet money they’re one comment away from losing it). Hunk stuck by the medical tent. He’s been wolfed out since the whole confrontation, which worried Lance. Usually he’d be cooking away his anxiety, but it seemed the shifter found solace in guarding Keith instead.

Then, of course, there was Shiro. He had collapsed right next to Keith after getting him into the medical tent. The tendrils of the coma had lingered on him and beckoned him back after Allura’s insane rampage. He woke up this morning, alert and active, and had been the only one to approach Allura’s tent. He had been traveling back and forth across camp to talk to her then to check on Keith, all while ignoring the glinting metal of his arm. 

Lance had joined Shiro in the medical tent when the dreamwalker called. Keith hadn’t moved since the day before, lying deathly still in the bed roll. His burnt shirt had been discarded and the candle light only made the scrapes and bruises from yesterday more prominent on his alabaster skin, especially around his wrist where his healing burns had been torn open by the cuff. It was raw and red. Dirt littered it. 

Lance had to clench his jaw as he drew water over the skin, regretting not treating them as soon as they had situated Keith in the medical tent. Dealing with Allura and the aftermath of the confrontation had occupied his mind instead of caring for Keith. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. 

After wrapping both hands, Lance had cleaned and dressed the other minor scrapes. Shiro had watched him diligently work. Keith hadn’t done as much as twitch. 

Shiro had decided not to spin any dreams for his brother. He had been too afraid that while he was gone from the tent one might morph into a nightmare--it wasn’t a risk he wanted to take, especially after the day Keith had had. Shiro had said all he needed was rest and someone to be there when he woke. 

It was too bad then that Hunk perked up at the medical tent when Shiro was with Allura. When the brown wolf whined at Lance, shifting his footing, the witch’s stomach dropped. 

Out of all times for Keith to wake up… 

Lance darted to the tent and abruptly pulled it open.

Which was a bad idea. 

Keith flinched back before Lance could even poke his head in; arms up and hands open as if to show he meant no harm… or to prevent harm to himself. The blanket had tangled around his legs and he shook where he curled up on the corner of the bed roll. 

“I--I am s’rry. I didn’t… please, didn’t--”

“Hey,” Lance softly whispered. Slowly he knelt down just inside the opening. 

In that moment, he tried to will Shiro to appear. He didn’t know how to handle  _ this _ . There was a clogging atmosphere of vulnerability threatening to choke Lance as it radiated from the witch huddled in on himself. A missed twig poked out from his mussed hair and sleep clung to his eyes; the sight should’ve been light, but it made him look disheveled and distressed. Keith kicked at the blanket weakly before careening to the side.

“Woah,” Lance said, reaching to catch him. Keith quickly righted himself with wide eyes as he snapped away from Lance’s touch. The hydro backed off. 

“S’rry. I...”

“It’s okay. Keith, it’s okay,” Lance reassured. He ducked his head down, trying to catch his eyes. They were unfocused, drifting. Keith wasn’t all there. 

Lance settled himself across from him. Shiro needed to get here.  _ Now. _

“You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. Allura--”

Keith cowered at her name. Hands raised higher over his head. 

Lance’s chest  _ ached _ . And it split. And regret and sorrow and misery pooled at his feet. He was soaked in the pain of seeing Keith reduced to a scared boy. 

Talking wasn’t going to work. Not like Lance knew what to say anyway. 

He hadn’t seen this side of him before. So unguarded. It wasn’t Keith. He was strong and always had walls up. Even when he showed weakness, it was restrained in someway, either by his words, actions, or thoughts. With this haze over his mind, he didn’t act like himself. 

Lance was unsettled. 

He needed to snap Keith out of it. Not with talking. Not with touch. As Lance racked his brain, he suppressed the urge to groan. His eyes darted around, but there wasn’t much in the tent to work with but medical supplies. He frustratedly wiped at his face, a light sheen of sweat coming off on his hand. 

Oh.

That might just work. 

Lance uncorked the water pouch attached to his hip. 

If nothing else will work, might as well try this, right?

With a few flicks of his fingers, a stream of water flowed out of the pouch. Lance glanced at Keith. The witch was still curled up and afraid. 

Slowly Lance moved the water into Keith’s field of vision. He took a breath.

The water soared through the air, glittering in the candle light of the tent. It swirled and dipped and curled around Keith. Lance wasn’t the best water dancer in his family, but he knew the basics: the pull of the water and its need to flow. His heart swelled at the motions, racing and beating as he danced for Keith, for the man with the deepest secrets and the longest sorrows. 

The water’s movements grew faster and faster, keeping time to Lance’s heart. He took a breath to calm himself, but the sight of Keith prevented him. The nicks and bruises, scars and gauze, those violet eyes framed by raven locks. The brutality of Keith only added to his beauty. And despite his past and present, he was ethereal. 

Lance couldn’t keep up with the water’s desperation to be free. His heart stuttered. His fingers jolted.

A tendril hit Keith’s fingertips. 

“ _ Lance _ ,” he gasped. “Lance, Lance, Lance.” 

Keith chanted his name as vacant eyes darted around the tent. He lowered his hands.

“Keith?” Lance whispered. The water fell around them. 

Slowly the witch came back into awareness. His hands shifted beneath the new wrappings, twitching. His eyes blinked, focusing on his fingers, then following where the gauze met skin and to his elbow, arm, then bare chest. His breaths weren’t as erratic. His brows suddenly furrowed. 

Lance shifted forward before freezing when violet eyes pinned him.

“What… Lance?” his voice rasped, like gravel underfoot. 

Without thinking, Lance reacted. He softly shushed Keith before carefully bringing himself closer, ignoring the way the other witch tensed, how he trembled and shook in the candlelight. The ache in Lance’s chest grew, but he ignored that too because right now his emotions were only secondary to Keith’s, which were broken and bleeding fear. Keith was scattered and fraying and Lance didn’t know what to do. 

But he knew he could fix the little things.

Lance drew out the remaining water from his pouch, condensing it into a single sphere. In the silence of the tent, he reached his hand out, not quite touching Keith’s jaw yet guiding it all the same. Keith looked confused.

“Drink,” Lance whispered. Though hesitant, Keith parted his chapped lips. Lance pushed the water between them, lingering. Keith took a moment, then swallowed thickly. Lance followed the movement of his throat, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

Lance could feel Keith’s eyes searching his face; they were calculating. He hadn’t realized how close they were: Lance’s knees bracketed Keith’s feet, his chest hovered over Keith’s legs, their faces were meer inches apart. 

Lance loomed over him. Regrettably he scrambled back.

The last person above Keith had been Allura.

“Better?” Lance awkwardly asked, blood warming his cheeks. Keith weakly scowled in response.

“What am I doing here?”

Lance eyed him warily, his stomach dropping. He knew he wouldn’t like where this conversation was headed. “What do you mean?”

Keith huffed before crossing his arms tiredly. “The princess. She wouldn’t… I shouldn’t be here.”

“False. This is the only place you’re meant to be,” Lance replied rather matter of factly. 

They’ve been over this before. Again and again. The argument was getting old, repetitive. Lance couldn't deny that he was sick of Keith’s incessant need to be a loner, to be a self-sacrificing idiot. But he also couldn’t fault him. If his secret had been private for another day, another week, another month, then maybe Lance could’ve done something more concrete about Keith’s self-doubts. Maybe Keith could’ve eventually found the courage to tell the group about his necromancy on his own terms while standing up for himself and his place among them. 

But those were only wishes. Ones that wouldn’t be coming true.

“Forget Allura. You’re not going anywhere.” Keith flinched back. It only took a moment for Lance to realize his mistake. “Wait, no--”

“So, I’m a prisoner?” Keith choked out. His hands were cradled at his chest and Lance didn’t know if he was consciously protecting his wrists, but the action still shot through him.

“ _ Stars! _ No, Keith. No. You’re not a prisoner.”

“Then why am I here? Why can’t I leave?” he demanded, summoning energy from his prolonged sleep. The tiredness was gone from his eyes, his bags lifted miraculously as adrenaline shot through him. 

“This is the medical tent!” Lance hurriedly said, making dramatic hand motions. “You’ve been out since yesterday. You’re here because you were hurt and you can’t leave until you’re better.”

Keith shook his head frantically.

“The princess wouldn’t like this.”

“Fuck Allura.”

Keith eyes widened comically. If the situation had been different, Lance would’ve laughed.

“Yeah, you heard me. Fuck Allura and her twisted perceptions. It’s messed up,” Lance said. “Currently, we are mutinying and now that you’re awake we have another person against her.”

“Mutiny?” Keith grabbed his hair frustratedly. “What do you even mean?”

“We aren’t following Allura’s orders anymore. After what she did, we all shared the same sentiment, but Pidge put a word to it. She crossed the line. Not even crossed it. She catapulted herself so far over it she can’t even see the line anymore.”

“Lance, you guys can’t do that,” Keith pleaded. “What about the Galra?”

Lance waved his hand in the air. “We were going to do this with or without her. It makes no difference. We just realized something yesterday. She needs us. We don’t need her.”

“But you can’t do that to her.”

Now that stopped Lance.

The most dumbfounded look appeared on his face. He couldn’t wrap his head around Keith’s words. Allura deserved everything that’s happening to her, more than she was getting actually. Out of everyone Keith should be furious, but he looked frightened instead, small and helpless. Wouldn’t getting rid of Allura settle him?

“You can’t fight her because of what happened,” Keith said. He thickly swallowed. “It’s fine.”

“Do you want to be hurt again?” Lance pressed. He didn’t understand what Keith was trying to accomplish. 

“No, but--”

“Because it damn well sounds like it and I’m not having it. Her life is not more valuable than yours.”

“She’s royalty,” Keith argued.

“She’s a person. Just like you.” 

“A person with power.”

“Not without her kingdom.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Keith shouted. “She’s a princess and I’m a necromancer. No one will choose me over her. I’m not worth it.”

“Were you not paying attention to what I said at all?” Lance desperately asked. He didn’t know what hurt more: Keith’s view of himself or of his friends. “We are choosing you. Your friends. We are choosing to leave Allura behind to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me.”

“Of course, I can.”

“That is a damn lie.”

“Like Balcord’s Hell it is. We protect our own.”

“Not from everything. Not from the princess.”

“Why can’t you just understand that we care about you?”

“Lance, don’t--”

“No.”

“Just--”

“No arguments.”

“Would you--”

“Nope.”

“She almost killed me!” Keith shouted. His voice cracked and crumbled and before the last syllable escaped his lips, his hands covered his mouth, his brows pinched. His shoulders curled in. Lance briefly closed his eyes to the sight. He couldn’t take seeing Keith like this. It was tearing him apart. “You were  _ there _ and she would’ve killed me.”

“Keith--”

“No, just. Tell me what happened,” Keith demanded. And there he went. Hardening himself. Deflecting. Lance despised it. The mask was in place again: cold and unemotional. “Why aren’t I dead?”

Lance huffed, feeling the simmering anger boil deep in his gut. It stormed within him, beating at his insides like a typhoon, like a hurricane, like a great flood whose destiny was to raze all that remained of the weak walls that trapped it. Hatred churned.

Allura would pay.

She’d regret this day.

Keith should  _ never _ had had to ask that question. Not with those hardened eyes and resigned curve to his shoulders. Not like he didn’t expect to be alive. 

Lance clenched his teeth. Allura had dragged him from Shiro’s bedside and thrown him on the floor like he wasn’t any better than the dirt he landed on. She had ranted, made outrageous accusations. 

And all Keith did was take it. 

He laid by her feet and fucking took it. 

“Lance,” Keith whispered, “please.”

Lance’s anger drained immediately under Keith’s soft pleading tone. The flood receded. 

He took a breath. This wasn’t about him. 

If Keith didn’t want to think about what was beyond this tent, fine. If he wanted to know what happened, then Lance would tell him. He wouldn’t keep things from him. “Fine then. We won’t talk about that anymore. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Keith ducked his head and began picking at his wrappings. Lance had noticed the habit over the past weeks. A tick. It drew his eyes to the splotches of blood that had bled through around his wrist. It circled like a bracelet. “The… the princess got a cuff around me. After that everything’s just…” he trailed off. 

Lance almost wished Keith didn’t remember anything at all. 

“After the first cuff snapped on,” Lance began, “you screamed. It was…  _ horrible _ . Stars, Keith. I’ve never heard you like that. It was like--”

“Skip ahead,” Keith gritted. Lance was about to argue. He _ needed  _ to tell him how gut wrenching the experience was for him, so that Keith could begin to understand how much he cared, how much they all cared. But Keith’s face was pained and his fists were clenched. It hurt Lance to recall what happened; it must had been excruitating for Keith. 

“Right. So we charged her--Shiro and I. We weren’t thinking and she saw us coming. We were on the floor in seconds and then she went after you. And--And Shiro and I couldn’t get up fast enough. The guy had just woken up from a  _ coma. _ But something happened. Suddenly it wasn’t just you. There was this  _ lion _ . It was--”

“She,” Keith interrupted. Lance blinked. So did Keith. He looked just as confused as Lance felt.

“Okay,  _ she _ ,” Lance repeated hesitantly, “was red and angry and standing over your unconscious body. I was so scared. I thought…” Lance took a breath, calming himself. There was no blood, no claws, no teeth. Keith was alive. He banished the image from his head. “But she didn’t hurt you. She kept growling and swiping at Allura. She was so shocked. We all were. This giant creature appeared out of nowhere, just materialized over you.” 

“Did Allura hurt her?” Keith hesitantly asked. Lance would almost say by his tone he didn’t want to know the answer and would be conflicted if either one of them had gotten injured.

“No,” Lance replied. “Coran had run into camp, saw the lion, and pulled Allura away. Something shifted in her after seeing the lion. Still murderous and angry but also confused. I… I don’t really know how to explain it, but you could  _ feel _ something different.” Lance waved his hand in the air, dismissing his thought. “Sorry, but anyway, the Alteans left. And everyone else just tried to get the lion away from you, but she wouldn’t leave you. She wasn’t as aggressive with us like she was with Allura, but she wouldn’t let us get to you and we didn’t want to anger her in case she did something to you. After a few minutes of staring, she just vanished. Like mist. It was crazy.”

“She protected me,” Keith whispered, still picking at his wrappings around his hands. The blood had slowly spread from his wrist. “I don’t remember, but I can,” he pressed a hand to his chest, “I can feel her still. She protected me.”

“Yeah, she did,” Lance agreed. It was an experience. He had never seen a creature like her before and she perfectly fit Keith’s stupid description from a few days ago: a body of a sphinx and a head of a merlion. But she went beyond the physical description of a lion. When she appeared, they all felt it; this wave of immense power. Allura had said they that they weren’t ready to call upon their lions, that they needed to be more stable and better vessels before even attempting to communicate with them. But Keith did it. 

Lance moved closer to Keith, grabbing clean wrappings, medicine, and a bowl of clean water as he went. Keith tensed slightly, but didn’t voice any discomfort. Slowly Lance reached out, grabbed his hands to pull them onto his lap. At the touch of his fingers, Keith unwinded: his shoulders drooped and he let out a sigh. It was soft, airy. 

Then Keith did something so unexpected: he dropped his head onto Lance’s shoulder. 

And Lance almost dropped the water bowl.

Keith’s head rested between his neck and shoulder, in that groove that still allowed him to press his nose against Lance’s throat and for his hot breath to puff against his skin. 

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled. Stars, Lance could feel his lips moving against his skin. “I just… I need…”

“Hey, yup, yeah,” Lance stumbled. “I get it. No problemo, my dude.”

Lance swore he felt Keith’s temperature rise against his bare skin. He would be a hypocrite to call him out. 

Lance breathed deeply. He could do this. Keith had just woken up from a traumatic experience, they had an argument about his low levels of self-worth, and he re-lived said traumatic experience. Keith needed some comfort. And Lance would provide it.

Lance got to work unwrapping the gauze slowly. It came off easily, though tacky where the blood had seeped through scabbing wounds around his wrist. The skin was raw and red. 

The cuffs hadn’t been kind to Keith. 

Lance chilled the tepid water before swirling it around Keith’s hands. The temperature should help with the inflammation. He added some medicine into the mix.

So engrossed in his work, Lance hadn’t noticed Keith’s hitching breath or trembling shoulders. Not until the first tear hit his skin. 

Lance froze.

“Keith?” 

But the man shook his head. 

Another tear.

“Keith, what’s up? Am I hurting you?”

He shook his head again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He hesitated. It was brief, but he did. He shook his head. 

Lance carefully continued, but it was only a few seconds more before Keith’s breath hitched.

“Okay, maybe we should--”

The tent flap opened. 

Keith’s head jolted up as he pushed himself into Lance, as if they weren’t close enough already. Lance reflexively dropped the medicated water into his lap to catch Keith as his gaze cut to the opening in the tent, expecting the worst. 

But it was Hunk. 

Still as a wolf. 

Lance relaxed, but Keith didn’t. Lance could feel his coiled muscles under his bare skin where his cool fingertips latched on to keep them both steady and upright. He almost had a lap full of necromancer and on any other occasion his heart would be doing somersaults. 

“Hunk, what are you doing?” Lance sharply asked as he tried to pry Keith off him. The witch wasn’t having it. He didn’t want to move from where Lance remained a barrier to the shifter. 

Hunk whined a bit while peering in Keith’s direction. 

After all their years together, Lance picked up what he was trying to convey. It wasn’t hard considering how adamant Hunk had been about guarding Keith’s tent. 

Hunk was worried. Must have heard Keith crying. 

_ Coward _ . He didn’t interrupt while they had been fighting. 

“Look, buddy,” Lance said. “I know you want to help, but it might not be the best time.”

Hunk only whined more, shifting his footing eagerly. He was tired of waiting to help. 

Lance sighed and gestured for him to come on the other side of where Keith was. Slowly Hunk fully entered the tent, his size dwarfing everything within it. Including Lance and Keith. 

Instead of pulling Lance closer, like he expected, Keith started to push him away. But Lance didn’t release him.

“ _ Lance _ ,” Keith warned.

“He wants to help,” Lance assured. He turned his gaze to Keith’s whose eyes wouldn’t leave Hunk and it hit him then, why Keith was so tense around his best friend. Hunk hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Keith since his necromancy had been revealed, meaning Keith didn’t know how Hunk viewed him. After the incident with Allura, Lance didn’t blame him for his hesitance. He needed to show him that Hunk only wanted to protect him, 

“Let him help,” Lance whispered. He moved his head into Keith’s field of vision and though the witch didn’t like being cut off from the possible threat, his eyes finally met Lance’s. His eyes were tinged pink and glassy. “He’s been worried about you since everything went down. Especially with Allura. He started guarding your tent as soon as we moved you in here. He wants to make sure you’re okay.” 

And though Keith didn’t relax, he minutely nodded and stopped fighting Lance’s hold. 

Hunk sidled up to Lance, giving his face a lick before chuffing in his ear. 

“Give him a minute, wouldya?” Lance complained with a smile on his face. He tugged on the golden band around Hunk’s throat before pushing his muzzle away and turning back to Keith. “Do you want to continue with your hands?” he softly asked. 

Lance could see the hesitance on his face. Keith always had his scars covered. They’ve all caught glimpses of them occasionally, but only Shiro and Lance really saw them, studied them. They knew his secret before anyone else. Hunk hadn’t. He didn’t know what the scars meant or where he got them from (only the wild conspiracies from Pidge lended any clue). His scars were intimate.

Lance almost didn’t want Hunk to see them either. 

He almost felt jealousy at the idea of Hunk seeing them.

He selfishly wished he knew more about them.

But Keith and Lance hadn’t gotten that far. It had only been a few weeks since Lance found out and trust took time to build. He knew Keith wouldn’t share his stories with Hunk. Not now, maybe not ever. 

His thoughts tapered at that idea. This might be all Hunk could get of Keith. Hunk would only be able to see his scars; he may never know the stories behind them. But Lance was desperately close.

And that put his heart at ease. 

“Don’t worry, Keith,” he softly said. “Hunk will stay there and I can wrap them up quickly. It’ll only take a few more minutes.”

Keith finally looked at Lance. The hesitance was still there, but he nodded before pulling away from him. Lance wished he didn’t have to. That all encompassing warmth was gone from his skin, but it remained in his chest, fluttery and fuzzy. 

Hunk sat on one side of Lance while Keith occupied the other. He didn’t rest his head on Lance’s shoulder again. It was disappointing, but he knew Keith wouldn’t show that side of himself to Hunk. He had a reputation to uphold. 

Lance recovered the water that spilled, cleansed it, and continued. Hunk didn’t seem to be paying too much attention, which Lance was grateful for. The shifter seemed content to simply be in their presence, probably happy to see Keith awake. 

Keith was still tense, but slowly relaxed with the flow of the water over his hands. His eyes began to droop and Lance had to stifle a giggle when he swayed. It was encouraging that he was comfortable enough to even  _ get _ tired in their presence, especially with his initial hesitance with Hunk.

As Lance started to wrap his hands, Hunk stood up. Immediately Keith was aware, his violet eyes lazily tracking the shifter. And while Keith watched Hunk, Lance studied Keith. But the necromancer didn’t move as Hunk brushed by him, his chocolate fur caressing Keith’s bareback. 

Keith shivered. 

His eyes closed, then opened, looking more exhausted than he had in the past few minutes. 

Hunk moved to lay behind him, curling his tail so it rested in his lap. His muzzle came around and nipped at his chest, urging him to fall back. Keith did so reluctantly as Lance nodded in encouragement, tying off the last wrapping as Keith sunk back into Hunk’s fur. 

But he snagged onto Lance’s hand at the last moment.

“Stay?” Keith murmured.  _ Stars and stones _ , how Lance’s heart stayed in his chest will forever be a mystery. He could only blame Keith’s lack of filter on the exhaustion pulling at his lids and making his violet eyes sparkle darkly. 

“I wish I could, but I should probably go let Shiro know you’re okay. He’s been worried all day.” Keith’s grip momentarily tightened on his wrist. Lance placed a hand over it. “But I’ll be back soon, okay? It’ll be like I never left. And Hunk will protect you. Remember? Got the son of the Alphas here. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

Keith rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, then glanced at Hunk before nodding. He reluctantly let Lance’s hand slip from his. 

His lashes fluttered and in seconds Keith was gone, lost to sleep. His hair fanned in Hunk’s fur, dark raven locks mixing with melted chocolate. After a moment, Lance carefully covered Keith with the discarded blanket. 

Lance smiled dopily. Usually he’d be jealous if someone took his favorite sleeping spot on his best friend, but he could make an exception just this once. Hunk placed his head on Keith’s lap, giving Lance _the_ _look_. And even in his wolf shift, he knew what that meant. They’d be having a talk later. 

Lance grimaced before exiting the tent, leaving the two to rest. 

Keith was okay now. Hopefully he’d be that way when he woke. 

Lance would be back before he did.

As he was closing the tent flap, Shiro approached him from behind. The timing was so conveniently convenient. 

“Lance,” he said. “I didn’t see Hunk on the way over here. Is everything alright? Is Keith okay?”

Lance waved off his concern, but didn’t address it. He didn’t think he could without spiraling again. “Keith woke up.” 

Shiro lunged for the tent as the words left his mouth, but Lance caught him before he made it. 

“But now he’s sleeping again! So you gotta hold on,” Lance whisper-shouted. He pushed Shiro back a step. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized as Lance led him from the tent and toward the center of camp. “I’m just…”

“Worried?”

“If only it was just that,” he mumbled before wiping a hand over his haggard face, leaving his metal arm at his side. The talks with Allura weren’t going well; Lance could tell in the crease between his brows and the downturn of his lips. “How was he?”

Lance pursed his lips before saying, “He woke up kinda out of it. He didn’t seem to know where he was. Couldn’t really get a hold of his surroundings even though he was sitting up and mumbling. It was… unsettling, Shiro. It took a bit to snap him out of it.”

“Almost sounds like a night terror. After what he went through I wouldn’t be surprised.” Lance hummed in agreement. Shiro continued, “But usually people are more violent with them. Thrashing, screaming. He didn’t do any of that did he?”

Lance shook his head. 

“Maybe something else then.” Shiro pulled a hand through his white forelock. “I’ll look into it. If it’s going to happen again, we need to be prepared for it and how to deescalate him. But he was fine other than that?”

“Physically his scrapes are healing well and some of the bruises are already yellowing. I had to rewrap his hands. His wrist.” Lance scowled at the image in his head, that anger slowly resurfacing. “It started bleeding again. Probably when he was moving around.”

Shiro hesitated a moment before asking, “And emotionally? Mentally?”

Lance turned to the side. He should tell Shiro. It wasn’t a secret and he had to have already guessed, but the words were lodged in his throat, like clogging wet sand. They were heavy and rough and to tell Shiro that Keith couldn’t comprehend that they--his friends--cared about him, that he believed his life was worthless compared to Allura’s, that he didn’t understand why he wasn’t left in the forest or dead already; it was impossible. 

Shiro placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“He wasn’t okay. Was he?” Shiro softly asked.

Lance clenched his jaw to keep his lip from trembling. “He’s so far from okay. I don’t know how to help.”

“It’s hard,” he sighed. “For years I’ve been working with him. His experiences haven’t put his self-worth in the best place and it’ll take time for him to accept others care for him and even longer to begin to fully care for himself. He was doing better until I left.”

“Shiro, you can’t blame yourself,” Lance scolded. “That ambassador meeting was only supposed to be for a few months. You had no idea what you were walking into.”

“Regardless,” Shiro said, shutting down Lance’s argument. “In the year of my imprisonment, Keith became more unstable. The stress I put him through coming on this mission only added to it. And now over the past few weeks, he’s had to deal with you and now everyone else reacting to his necromancy. It’s hard on his mental health and we can’t fault him for it.”

Lance slumped a little. The memories of himself leering over Keith with an icy dagger had been scarred into his mind. He tried to think of that fateful day occasionally, but not too often. It reminded him of his faults and what he had been striving for since then: to protect Keith from others and from himself. The look in his eyes, that helpless yet hopeful look at the prospect of his death, scared Lance. He was glad Keith hadn’t worn that face yesterday when Allura had him at her feet. But it made him wonder what had been different between him and Allura. 

His reaction to Keith’s necromancy was just as bad as hers, if not worse. He hated to be similar to her in that sense; however, at least he accepted Keith for who he was once he realized how stupid he had been. Since, he had been making efforts to show Keith that their friendship was stronger now that there was one less secret between them. Keith’s deterioration was in part his fault, but he was making amends. He’s trying. 

“I know. I know,” Lance replied. “I just wished he could see himself like we see him. He doesn’t understand that we care and lo--like him. That we like him.”

“He will. In time. For now I think--”

Shiro was cut off as a voice echoed through the forest: “You bitch!” 

Both witches looked at each other with raised brows.

“Was that Pidge?”

“Go shove your opinions up a minotaur's ass! Or better yet, give them to a sphinx to puzzle out ‘cause we sure as Hell can’t understand them!”

“Yeah, that’s them.”

Shiro and Lance sprinted to Allura’s tent, making it there in seconds. 

Pidge stood outside staring down Allura as Coran stood placatingly between them. 

“Number Five, I realize that you’re upset--”

“Upset? I’m so beyond upset! You have no idea,” Pidge yelled, taking a threatening step toward the two. “She has no fucking right to say any of that shit! I’m gonna shove those words so far up her ass she’ll be vomiting them up for months!”

“As if you’d be able to do me any harm,” Allura countered. 

“Oh, shall we have a repeat of last week’s training round?” Pidge smirked, fingers itching to dive into their belted pouch brimming with human tech. Lance watched as Shiro slowly approached from behind them, but he didn’t dare place himself in their warpath. “I’d like to kick your ass again. It’ll be much more satisfying this time around.”

“I wish not to fight with you,” Allura argued. Her voice turned sincere in a sickly sweet fashion that had Lance’s stomach feeling queasy. “I care deeply for all of you, which is why I will not idly stand by as a Galra-sympathizer nestles further into your minds.”

“Allura,” Shiro interjected before Pidge could get another word in. He stepped forward. “We’ve discussed this. Keith has never had any communication with the Galra or any other necromancer allies.”

She simply huffed and turned her nose up at Shiro. The action left a bitter taste in Lance’s mouth.

“Save your breath, Shiro,” Pidge said, waving him off. “It’s clear there’s no swaying her. Better to kick her ass and leave her behind.”

“Look, this isn’t how the situation should be handled,” Shiro said, voice hard and authoritative. “Pidge, I realize you’re upset, but I've been talking with Allura and I’m handling the situation.”

“You’re talking isn’t doing shit. It’s not changing her mind and it’s sure not helping Keith.”

“Pidge,” Lance scolded. That was too far. Shiro hadn’t taken a break since waking up this morning, going back and forth across camp to check on Keith and to converse with Allura. He was doing all he could in the most diplomatic way possible. 

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Talking is great and all, but that’s not what Keith needs. I heard you both in the tent, Lance. He doesn’t think he matters. He doesn’t think we  _ care _ .”

Lance looked to the side, not denying Pidge’s words. It was an ugly truth they were all coming to realize. 

“I shouldn’t have overreacted when I saw him practicing. I know that now. It was irrational, because Keith couldn’t hurt any of us.” With a quiver to their voice, they continued, “He’d rather die than hurt any of us.”

“Then let him die,” Allura snapped. 

“Princess,” Coran gasped, taking a step back from his charge. 

“You better take back those words,” Lance said darkly. 

The fire that Keith had tamed within him reignited and stoked his insides, boiling the rage swirling in his gut. Allura’s actions and words were justified by nothing but hatred in her heart. Her discriminatory beliefs would be her end. 

Lance took a step forward, but Shiro caught him with an arm.

Coran had done the same with Allura. 

Her marks had taken on a crimson hue. It only reminded Lance of the blood seeping from Keith’s wrist. 

“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” Lance snarled, straining against Shiro’s hold desperately. “You have no idea! We care about you!  _ Keith  _ cares about you. We’ve dedicated months of training and travel to saving Altea, but you won’t even budge on this. You make accusations and preach your beliefs, but you’re the only one truly hurt because of it.”

“I bet Keith would beg to differ,” Allura smirked.

Lance violently jostled in Shiro’s arms, which had slackened for a moment at her words. 

“Oh, you’re going to regret saying that,” Pidge said. 

“Pidge,” Shiro warned.

“Tell me she doesn’t deserve it! Tell me she doesn’t deserve to hurt because of what she did to your brother and I’ll back off,” she argued, squaring up to Shiro.

For a moment, Lance thought Shiro wouldn’t say anything. He felt a twisted sense of happiness as his arms lowered from restraining him. If Shiro gave them the go ahead, he’d have no qualms about harming Allura. He’d never admit it out loud, but it scared him; these feelings of rage directed at his friend. 

He’s not like this. He  _ knows _ he’s not like this. 

But because of her actions against Keith, he felt justified. If she harmed his friend, wasn’t he owed the chance of avenging him?

Shiro was quiet for a moment more before saying, “Keith wouldn’t want anyone to be hurt over him.” 

Lance let the guilt crash over him. 

What would Keith think of them right now? He’d be shocked at their defense of him; completely disbelieving someone would stand up for him. But he’d also wouldn’t want this confrontation happening in the first place. 

Lance knew Keith wouldn’t want a fight to break out over him, no matter how much Allura deserved to be put in her place. Keith probably didn’t even blame Allura for her actions. 

Suddenly his hatred didn’t seem so justified anymore. 

Pidge also deflated at Shiro’s statement. 

“Then what would he want?” they asked.

“For us to forget this thing ever happened,” Lance monotonously answered. “For us to let him disappear into the forest. And forget him.”

“I don’t want him to think we’d just abandon him,” they shakily protested.

Allura sadly shook her head. “He has every one of you wrapped around his finger. He may as well be a daywalker, messing with your emotions and manipulating your memories. This has gone on for long enough.”

“I agree,” Lance said. 

Allura’s eyes blinked wide. “What?”

“This had gone on for too long. Good thing we’re ending it.”

“I don’t follow,” Allura hesitantly said. “You were about to attack me for my comment concerning Keith and presently you’re agreeing to dispose of him.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. He neglected to respond to her questioning tone. What she didn’t understand was much more interesting. “You don’t know. You should have realized by now.”

“I’ve realized plenty.”

“But not anything that matters,” he countered. 

“Shiro, you haven’t told her?” Pidge asked. 

He regrettably shook his head.

“Told me what?”

“We no longer take orders from you. You are no longer welcome on this mission.”

“Welcome?” she laughed. “You cannot choose to defect. I’m the princess of Altea and as Voltron paladins loyal to my kingdom, you will obey me.”

“Princess? Of what? There’s not an Altea left,” Pidge sneered. 

Allura’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“If you cannot change your attitude toward Keith,” Shiro said, “we have no choice but to disinvite you from the group for his safety and our own. We will continue to journey to the rebel group. Without you.”

“Princess,” Coran softly said, “perhaps reconsider--”

“Enough,” she sneered as she turned from the group and stalked to her tent, violently storming inside.

Coran turned sad eyes onto the others. “Please, just give her another day. I will continue to talk with her.”

“We can’t spend too much longer here, Coran,” Shiro replied, then sighed. “But because Keith may need more time to recover, we will stay another day regardless. If she doesn’t at least try to understand Keith, she will not be traveling with us. You may if you wish.”

He shook his head. “I swore to King Alfor I wouldn’t leave her side.”

Shiro nodded before turning to leave, guiding Pidge away. Lance followed. 

Without Allura, Keith would be safe. 

He’d be able to practice freely with them without fear of retribution for simply being himself. It’ll take time for him to be comfortable to do so, but Lance knew with patience, they’d be able to break Keith from his reservations. 

His anger was replaced by a giddy feeling in his chest with the image of Keith genuinely smiling as he practiced his necromancy; cheeks rosy from exertion and lips upturned in delight. His fire was magnificent and his necromancy could only enhance his magick’s ethereal quality. Lance could imagine fiery reanimated cockatrices taking to the sky and galloping abaths playing in a field. Their life fire would whip in the wind like flames on a wick. 

Keith could heal them of death. With a tug of magick and a smile. 

If Lance’s vision could be a reality, then he hoped Allura didn’t come to her senses. If Lance had to lose a friend for Keith to accept himself, he’d gladly do it. Keith was worth the loss. 

Lance stopped for a moment outside the medical tent, watching Shiro pull Pidge aside a ways off. He took a deep breath then entered, pushing the fabric to the side as he ducked in. Hunk perked up as Keith slept soundly, grasping at his fur. Lance settled himself next to them both.

Keith could give second chances.

He only needed to give himself one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know how far im going to take this story in this one fic. i might post one more chapter and move on to other scenes through keith's life. i didn't really intend to spend so much time on this, but i dont really plan out these stories soooooo we'll see. just thought id let you guys know, especially if you still wanted to read more cause it might be better to subscribe to the series instead of the fic just in case i decide to end this fic here and post a continuation as a different fic
> 
> i hope this satisfied all those readers that wanted allura to get what she deserved. it probably wasn't the ass kicking you were expecting but hopefully pidge's telling off and the group's decision to leave her behind was good enough. you'll have to wait to hear allura's decision on her possible attitude change to see if she'll continue trailing along with the group -- could complicate things but who doesn't love a complicated/angsty fic about hatred and self-depreciation ???
> 
> if you liked pls comment! it really fuels me to keep torturing keith. but if you want a more fluffy fic pls lmk cause our boy deserves a little happiness in his life, doesn't he?


	4. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You weren’t here,” he mumbled, then huffed at his own loose lips. His heart stuttered and he grasped his chest, regretting the vulnerability present in his weak voice. He had simply stated a fact, yet with a few simple words, he felt as though he was transparent under Lance’s gaze. 
> 
> Keith diverted his eyes from the seer, cringing at his own stupidity and the unbidden feelings swirling in his chest. He began picking at the wrappings on his hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been looking at this for too long so here! enjoy!

Keith woke groggily in the tent. 

He felt refreshed yet exhausted, disoriented as well. He could tell by the way his mind absently spun and his muscles rolled that he had been asleep for an excessive amount of time. 

His hands flexed absently, his fingers catching on soft, chocolate fur. 

Opening his eyes, he could see Hunk curled around him instead of under him, the shifter replaced by a less than comfortable pillow. Hunk’s wolf form was overwhelming, but Keith couldn’t complain as heat rolled off his body--not like the dry, desert heat, but something akin to it in a way that had Keith’s heart aching. 

Things used to be so simple.

Keith turned over slowly, careful not to wake Hunk.

The rest of the tent was empty. 

Disappointment rang out in his chest. He quickly struck down on the feeling. There was no need to express it. He shouldn’t have expected Lance to actually be here when he woke. That was a silly request, one borne from an exhausted man with a child’s wish. 

And he was no longer a kid--hadn’t been for years. 

He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

As his vision cleared, the tent gained another body.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

Lance stood by the entrance, plates in either hand. He was clad in his signature blues. A simple tank spanned his chest, leaving his lean arms and tanned skin on display. Loose pants with draping fabric clinched under the sash he belted it with, extenuating his waist. His feet dawned hardy slippers. Accents of his magickal inclination decorated him: a water pouch strapped across his chest, a bracelet of shells on his wrist, stitchings of waves near his collar. The early morning sun streamed through the tent, haloing Lance’s chestnut hair and glinting off his curls. 

Keith felt insignificant in his undress, his bare chest paling in the sunlight. He sat up and pulled the blanket tight over his shoulders. 

“You weren’t here,” he mumbled, then huffed at his own loose lips. His heart stuttered and he grasped his chest, regretting the vulnerability present in his weak voice. He had simply stated a fact, yet with a few simple words, he felt as though he was transparent under Lance’s gaze. 

Keith diverted his eyes from the seer, cringing at his own stupidity and the unbidden feelings swirling in his chest. He began picking at the wrappings on his hands. 

The sun’s warmth was blotted out. Keith heard the tent flap close and the soft padding of Lance’s feet, but he refused to look up, his gaze resolutely pinned to the fraying gauze. Lance settled on his bed roll and placed a plate in front of him. It was covered in fresh fruits and thin slices of meat; a cup of water balanced on the edge. 

“You’re right. I wasn’t here,” Lance softly said, “and I said I would be. You just happened to wake up the two minutes I left to get you breakfast. Typical.”

Keith smirked a little at the playfulness in Lance’s tone. It made him feel weighted instead of feather-light. 

“Here,” Lance said, pushing his plate an inch closer. “You woke up a few times, but you weren’t exactly lucid. It made it kinda hard to get some food and fluids into you. You must be starving.”

At Lance’s mention, Keith’s stomach growled, practically echoing in the silence of the morning. Lance had to stifle a laugh as Keith quickly wrapped his arms around his torso. Embarrassment flushed his face, though he couldn’t understand why.

He murmured a thanks before picking up a piece of fruit. Fae foods were dangerous; one bite and the consumer was bound to the land, unable to return to their original pocket without bargaining with a fae. Not all foods in Faerie forced such a fate upon their consumers. The fruits on his plate were harmless, but to be safe, Keith placed the small cube of salt present on the plate under his tongue before bringing the fruit to his lips. 

The two of them ate in silence. Only the sound of Hunk’s deep breaths played in the background. It was comforting in a way.

Once Keith had finished, he wiped his hand across his mouth, the gauze soaking up the berry juice present on his lips and staining the cloth a deep red. 

“How long was I asleep for?” Keith asked.

Lance placed the last of his meat in his mouth before answering, “You slept through the afternoon and evening yesterday. It’s early morning now. The sun isn’t too high.”

“Surprised you’re up,” Keith offhandedly mentioned. “You’re not a morning person.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to look after you.”

Keith frowned at that, taking a closer look at Lance. Though his clothes were fresh, the rest of him seemed drawn. His face had been washed, but exhaustion couldn’t be removed with water. Beneath the tan of his skin, a purple hue was present under his eyes, as well as a stray crease or two of the beginning of wrinkles. It was unlike him to skip out on sleep.

Then he thought over Lance’s words.

“Sorry,” he automatically said. Guilt pooled in his gut. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Lance said, his voice hard yet pleading. “Don’t ever be sorry for me wanting to take care of you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open slightly. It sounded like a confession. But he brushed the thought away. 

Lance had looked after him all through the night and Hunk had stayed with him, protecting him as Lance said he would. The concept was so simple, yet Keith couldn’t understand why they’d waste their time with him, especially after everything that had happened. He was tearing the group apart with the movement against Allura on his behalf; he didn’t deserve to be fought over. 

“You should’ve slept,” Keith argued.

“I did,” Lance countered. “Intermittently. But enough. Besides we are staying here for another day before moving on. I can catch up tonight.”

“But you shouldn’t need to catch up,” Keith muttered. “Where are you guys going?”

“What’s with the ‘you guys.’ You’re included in that,” Lance stressed, crossing his arms. He paused for a moment pursing his lips. “We are still heading toward the Arusians. Shouldn’t be more than a few more days until we bump into them. We’ve been traveling for so long.”

Keith nodded. It had been a while. A couple days ago the rest of the group had found out about his necromancy. Two weeks before Lance had. Three months before then, they had entered the Fae Pocket. In all that time, they had been traveling through the outskirts of the pocket in an attempt to avoid running into any fae that might be Galra loyalist, all while training under Shiro and Allura for the impending battle they’d surely find themselves in. 

The journey thus far had been physically draining. Keith had known it would be, but he hadn’t taken into account the mental and emotional aspects of being constantly in the presence of others. 

It was odd, different. Sometimes nice.

The first month of their journey, Keith had blatantly avoided any outreach from the others, despite Shiro’s insistence. Keith remembered feeling threatened, particularly by the possibility that Lance had remembered him from their childhood and was toying with him, but also by the easy smiles and camaraderie shared between everyone. 

Soft touches weren’t something Keith received from people. It just didn’t happen. 

Shiro had been the first and only one he was comfortable being vulnerable with since his pop. He knew the others were more open about friendly physicality, but he wasn’t and it had scared him every time Hunk opened his arms wide or Lance patted him on the back. Pidge had started breaking through his barriers by then; an unfortunate side effect of knowing them when they were younger. And every wall she managed to avoid only encouraged the others.

Shiro had to order them to stop once when they were crowding him one night. He had led him away right before the panic truly set in and when it did, he couldn’t stop shaking; his skin felt hot and blistering yet cool and prickling. He had grasped onto Shiro like he hadn’t since he was a kid. Though grounding, his touch  _ hurt  _ and Keith hadn’t known why, but he knew it wasn’t enough, that he needed more. 

Quivering in Shiro’s hold, Keith had spilled his feelings--the terror, the yearning, the  _ hope _ \--and the next morning he allowed himself to indulge in the small touches. It had been a gradual process. One that brought him closer to everyone, including Allura and Coran once they had joined the group not two weeks later. 

Despite being friendly and indulging around the group, he hadn’t allowed himself to get too comfortable. He had known their friendship wouldn’t last: it had been only a matter of time before they discovered his necromancy, meaning it had been only a matter of time before he was shunned at best or killed at worst. 

So he kept his distance, but it didn’t matter. 

When Lance had that dagger over his head, he hadn’t been able to see him as his murderer, but as his friend. Three months together had cemented his feelings concerning everyone he had been traveling with. 

Keith had friends.

He had people he cared about, no matter their feelings about him. Which is why since Lance found out his secret, he had been conflicted about whether to stay with them or leave. 

To stay had been selfish. And now there was a rift between the witches and the fae. 

Guilt pooled in Keith’s stomach as he recalled Pidge’s yells, Shiro’s screams, and Allura’s accusations. If he had left when Lance found out, everything would’ve been alright. He would’ve readjusted to being on his own, found his own way to aid the rebellion, and secured Altea from the shadows while his friends struck down Zarkon from the spotlight. 

They could’ve been heroes, ushering in Allura as the rightful queen of Altea.

But because of him and his selfish decision, they were talking of leaving her behind and of attempting their original plan of contacting the rebellion. 

He was such a burden. 

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Lance was waving a hand in front of Keith’s face. He snapped out of his thoughts, not realizing how far down he had been buried in them. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Keith dismissed. 

“So are you down?” Lance asked hopefully, leaning forward. His smile was a little lopsided in that childish way he wore so well; Keith didn’t understand how the upturned corners of his lips and his bright eyes conveyed so much emotion. 

It overwhelmed him. Filled him up and pulled him in.

But it also washed him in guilt for not paying attention. Keith never wanted him to stop smiling, especially because of him. 

Keith tilted his head. “Down for…?”

Lance huffed a little. His grin curled up before standing. “I knew you weren’t listening,” he lightly teased and before Keith could protest he continued. “I asked if you were down to relax today? You just had your first proper meal in two days and probably are a little weak.”

“I’m not weak,” Keith snapped as he attempted to stand alongside Lance. His legs wobbled a bit, but he was able to draw himself up, blanket draped over his shoulders. He didn’t hide his lie well. 

Lance snickered before saying, “Whatever you say, Mullet.” He quickly hunched down to grab a satchel and a pile of clothes that were stacked to the side of his bedroll before turning to the tent flap. “C’mon, you haven’t washed in a while. We can go by the deeper part of the stream.”

Keith reluctantly let the blanket fall to the floor, exposing his chest and singed pants. It partially landed on Hunk, but the shifter didn’t move. 

Keith guiltily wondered if he was up all night as well. 

As Keith exited the tent, Lance gently grasped his hand, placing it on the crook of his elbow to support and lead him to the stream; Keith hated yet appreciated the gesture. Lance was already perceptive about certain things and to have him beginning to figure him out already made him nervous. 

People weren’t meant to get close to him.

Yet Keith plastered himself to Lance’s side as thoughts of the raging princess swirled around his mind. He swore he felt Lance’s hand tighten over his own. 

Once at the bank of the stream, Lance placed him on a fallen trunk and draped his clothes and a towel next to him. With practiced ease, he unwrapped Keith’s hands. The brush of his fingertips felt electric. They were cool against the heat of his skin and scabs. Lance was efficient and careful; Keith absently thought he had become better than himself at dressing and undressing his hands. 

Once done, Keith waved him off, telling him to turn around and threatening to cut off his valuables if he peaked. Lance had stuttered before doing as he was told, scratching the nape of his neck as Keith swore his skin of his shoulders blushed in the morning sun. 

Keith disrobed and carefully lowered himself into the water, gasping at the coolness. Immediately Lance started rambling about anything and everything: his family, his village traditions, the particular cut of his slippers, running with Hunk under the full moon, a collection of sunspots on his arm he vehemently swears looks like a dancing satyr. 

As he washed the dirt from his skin, Keith languidly listened, enjoying the constant sound of Lance’s voice. Until it stopped. 

“Hey, ah, buddy,” Lance hesitantly said. “I forgot to give you the soap and shampoo. Can I… Is it alright if…?”

“I’m under the water, Lance,” Keith said. “You can bring me the stuff.”

“You mean I didn’t have to be making smalltalk to the trees?” he teased as he dove into the satchel.

“I’m sure they loved hearing about you,” Keith said, lips upturned. “Maybe you’ve wooed a hamadryade.”

“If only,” he dreamily sighed. The lightness in Keith’s chest slightly wavered at his tone, but then Lance shrugged. “But it wouldn’t work out. I’m a man of the sea. Being with someone bound to a tree planted in the Faerie would make for a hard long distance, especially considering most fae would rather have me not here, dead, or as an eternally bound servant.” 

Lance fished out a few bottles and walked over. He sat on a large rock protruding from the water; Keith stood below it, his arms crossed on the warm stone. 

“I don’t know. You seem like you’d be a pretty good servant,” Keith smirked as he took a bar of soap from Lance. 

“Ha. Ha,” he deadpanned. 

Keith dipped the soap in the water, lathered it a bit, and gathered the sudds on his hands despite them being the cleanest part of him thanks to Lance’s constant care. He cleaned around his nails and moved down his hand, but his wrist twinged, scabs pulled tight. Involuntarily he grimaced. Lance noticed.

“Here.” He manipulated the water around him, covering his hands and washing them himself. Keith sighed. For some reason, this water felt  _ better _ , which made no sense considering its all coming from the same stream. The soapy water continued down his arm and to his shoulder, cleaning as much of his upper body that it could.

“Thanks,” Keith mumbled before dunking his head. He reached for the shampoo, but Lance held it to his body.

“Nuh, uh,” he said. “Your wrist is hurt. You’ll just make it worse if you try to use it too much.”

“Stop messing around.”

“I’m not messing. Just--just turn around, alright?” Keith leveled him with a suspicious glare. Lance deflated under it, shoulders slumping; he looked dejected and Keith immediately regretted his harsh tone. He hated that he made Lance upset. “C’mon, man. Let me do this one thing for you.”

After a moment, Keith hesitantly nodded and caught a quick glance of Lance’s soft smile before slowly turning so his back faced him.

Keith sunk into the water a bit. 

“You’ve already done so much,” he whispered, low enough he hoped Lance wouldn’t catch it over the soft currents of the water. 

This was why he should’ve left earlier: he’s attached. Too attached.

One sad look from Lance now had him doing anything to erase his downturned lips and furrowed brows.

He couldn’t believe he let it get this far. He never meant to make friends; they only make things more complicated and dangerous for both parties involved. With his magick, he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable around others. He was a liability. Yet here he was, allowing an elemental to wash the hair of a necromancer. 

Keith didn’t understand.

Why were they all so okay with him being here? 

He had been prepared for rejection, ostracization, even death. But the support against Allura on his behalf was truly unbelievable--not even something Shiro’s best dreamweaving could come up with--though it felt like he’d wake up any minute now. The fantasy gone. His friendships lost to reality. 

He didn’t know if he’d survive that. 

There had to be an ulterior motive to their actions. There had to be a reason why his friends stood up for him. The thing is, Keith had never had any friends. And he realized he was brash, hotheaded, dangerous, awkward, aggressive, and many more traits that were simply undesirable. He considered the group of witches (and werewolf) his friends, but he couldn’t see them feeling the same way. 

They would never truly be friends with a necromancer. 

Keith heard the shampoo top clatter on the rock behind him, startling him a bit. 

Lance had offered to help, but Keith couldn’t help the wave of anxiety that suddenly shocked his nerves. Whenever Lance treated him, he had been in Keith’s line of sight, but now with his back exposed the contrast of his comfortability was glaringly obvious. 

Keith felt ridiculous.

Lance wouldn’t hurt him. Not after all his apologies, his defense, his care.

At least, he hoped. It was hard to completely trust him with doubts of their friendship running through his mind. 

Regardless, Keith took a breath, relaxing his body under the cool water, but the anxiety didn’t dissipate. 

Why didn’t his racing heart calm down?

Fingers grazed his hair and he flinched.

Keith hadn’t expected Lance to physically wash his hair. His thoughts stuttered as lithe fingers combed through his locks, soft touches caressing his nape. He thought Lance would’ve shampooed his hair like he had with his hands, using detached soapy water. 

“This okay?” Lance quietly asked. Keith felt himself fluster at the softness Lance’s voice emitted in the silence between them. It was warm, though cautious.

Of course, Lance had noticed how tense Keith had become and was worried he was doing something wrong. Worrying about him only wasted energy. 

He should tell Lance to stop, to go away. He could wash his own hair. But as Lance’s nails grazed his scalp, he sunk into the feeling. 

Couldn’t he be selfish one more time?

Keith jerkily nodded as Lance continued to untangle a few knots before adding a dollop of shampoo, the cool sensation sending shivers down Keith’s spine. Then his fingers were back, lathering the sudds into his greasy hair. 

The silence persisted as Lance continued. The running stream and breeze on the tips of branches were the only noise present. And Keith’s blood rushing in his ears.

The situation felt so… intimate. 

Keith couldn’t remember the last time someone had washed his hair--not even his pop. 

And Lance was so gentle. He barely felt the tugs against his knots, though the touch of fingers against his ears sent electricity through him. His skin felt hypersensitive to Lance’s, charged with soft grazes and massages. His heart never slowed. 

Soon enough it was over. 

Lance was washing the shampoo from his hair.

Keith sighed in relief yet disappointment. But then Lance’s hands were back.

“Uh, Lance?”

He hummed in response, fingers combing through the tips near his shoulders.

“Aren’t you done?”

“Done? I only just put in the conditioner.”

“Oh… right.”

Lance paused for a moment. “You don’t use conditioner. Do you?” Keith grimaced in the way people do when caught in an omitted truth. With a roll of his lips and slightly lowered brows. He in fact did not use conditioner. And now he felt  _ guilty _ about it. “How are you like this?”

“Look, I just didn’t go out of my way to get it and my hair doesn’t  _ need _ it,” he defended. 

“Buddy, pal,  _ Mullet _ . Your hair is long enough that you should be drowning it in conditioner,” Lance seriously said. He sighed. “Okay, maybe not drowning, but like this is why you have split ends and now that I know you don’t use it, you will definitely be using it in the future. I’m disappointed in  _ myself _ for not figuring it out beforehand. Also your hair is so choppy and uneven--what the hell do you do to it?”

“Can we not judge my hair?”

“I’m not judging. Just giving constructive criticism.”

“Doesn’t sound constructive.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Or I can thank you now…?” Keith trailed off, suddenly hesitant. He glanced over his shoulder, but then thought better of facing Lance. Sincerity was another form of vulnerability and one which Keith struggled with expressing. Their conversations were never quite serious aside from the few they’ve had since Lance learned of his necromancy and the few times he had cried in front of him he’d been too overwhelmed to care. In other words, it was new: being completely honest and appreciative with someone other than Shiro. Which is why Keith found himself staring into the water beneath him as he said, “Uh, thank you for, you know. The washing.”

“Yeah, well. It’s what friends do. And we’re friends. Aren’t we?”

Keith’s breath caught at the words. Lance had admitted it before. After he found out. He had called Keith a friend. A  _ best  _ friend. Keith hadn’t believed him then, not really. That day was full of emotions and in the moment, any acceptance of him would have felt like friendship, like family. 

To hear Lance say it again had him frozen. Perhaps for too long. 

With quick whips of his hand, Lance hastily washed the conditioner from his hair then stood and tersely walked from the bank. Watching him go, Keith hurriedly finished washing as Lance packed up the soaps. Then he returned to facing the trees, waiting for Keith to get out and dressed. 

The clothes Lance brought were some of Keith’s most comfortable. The outfit wasn’t nearly as extravagant as Lance’s, but the plainness was welcome. The simplicity of Keith’s clothing helped him stand out less and he preferred it that way; it made it easier to disappear into the background. 

Something he desperately yearned to do at that moment.

Lance hadn’t spoken since leaving Keith in the water. Something heavy hung between them, thickening the air, and Keith swore he could choke on it. 

The calm morning had shifted, not necessarily into absence, but in that suddenly the forest was loud, the stream was rushing, and the sun was blinding. Hypervigilance slowed Keith’s movements and dressing took minutes instead of seconds. 

“You know… you know we care about you, right?” Lance asked so softly, Keith barely heard him over the shaking of forest leaves. Keith remained silent, tensely watching Lance’s back. He didn’t turn around. “We do. We care. And it hurts to think--to know--that you don’t believe we do.”

Keith froze. The sorrow in Lance’s voice stung. These past few weeks had been filled with tumultuous emotions he was sorting through and though he cared about Lance’s concern, it only added to the whirlwind in him.

“It’s hard,” Keith said, throat suddenly parched. He didn’t know what to say, how to comfort Lance as his shoulders steadily rose and his arms wrapped around his torso. He didn’t want to upset him further, but he refused to lie. “I… I’ve only ever had Shiro. And he even left me.”

“We won’t leave you.” Lance sharply turned. His face was hard yet pleading, almost desperate. Keith shied away. “And you can’t leave us either! I know you’ve been thinking about it with everything that’s happened these past couple days, especially with us leaving behind Allura, but we won’t let you. Got it? We’d tear this forest apart looking for you and we’d stop at nothing to get you back.”

“Please, just don’t,” Keith quietly asked. Hearing those words from someone other than Shiro pierced his chest. Lance couldn’t possibly mean them. He wasn’t that important. “Lance, don’t…”

“Don’t what? Tell you how much we care about you. ‘Cause we do and I’ll tell you everyday until it gets through your thick skull. Why won’t you believe me? Why can’t you let yourself believe me?”

The accusation of his questions hurt; though because of their validity or Lance’s obvious worry, Keith wasn’t certain. Only two questions, but the answers weren’t easily spoken, especially by Keith who had become so entrenched in his own loathing that he couldn’t possibly fathom his answers would change anything. Seeing the others as friends warmed Keith, but that hope was also quickly extinguished when he remembered they couldn’t possibly feel the same for him. 

Lance’s reaction to his answers would only confirm his thoughts and he wasn’t prepared for the truth to be thrown back at his face. Either that or they’d be denied, which Keith hadn’t thought was a possibility until Lance had called him a  _ friend _ . It was also an option he wasn’t prepared for. 

“You don’t understand,” Keith heatedly dismissed. 

“Then tell me!”

“Let it go.”

“Keith, I can’t do that,” Lance sighed, taking a step forward. Keith thought about stepping back. “I’m worried about you. Everyone has been trying so hard to get you to open up these past few months. I understand with the whole necromancy thing why you felt like you couldn’t, but we are past that. Aren’t we?”

Keith exasperatedly wiped his wet bangs from his face. He  _ wanted _ to be open, but he couldn’t. A few pops littered his knuckles, wisps of sparks scattering as his frustration grew. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“We all know you’re a necromancer,” Lance pushed. Another step forward. “You don’t have to hide anymore. We all had terrible reactions, but they are over and done with. The worst of it is out of the way.”

“But what if it's not?” Keith rasped. 

“How could anything be worse than me almost killing you? Or Pidge exposing you? What about Allura’s reaction?” Lance frustratedly asked. “These past few weeks have been hard on you--more so than I can even imagine--but it’s over. You can finally breathe.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m suffocating?” Keith gasped, grasping onto his chest and pulling at his shirt until his wrist twinged and his sparks threatened to ignite the cloth. “Everyone knows. And I prepared for that. I thought… No, I  _ knew _ how everyone would react: the fear, the yelling, the threats. I knew it would happen.”

“But it’s over now.”

“No, it’s not!” Keith yelled. “You guys were supposed to ostracize me or kill me. You’ve done neither and I don’t know what to do because you say you care about  _ me  _ and you stayed up all night for  _ me _ and you kicked the princess out instead of  _ me _ . I can’t process and everything is getting twisted and tangled. I know I should be relieved, but I can’t relax because how can I when this could be a dream? I can wake up tomorrow with a collar around my neck and a dagger over my throat. And I--I can’t… I won’t be able to deal with you guys caring if this isn’t real.”

“Keith,  _ please _ ,” Lance begged, memories of that day flashing through his mind. Guilt bled through his heart and desperately into his words. Keith’s own loathing surfaced at his tone: it was his fault Lance had this bottle full of guilt. “Please, this is real. Our feelings about you are real. I wouldn’t lie about this. Why would I?”

“I--I don’t know,” Keith stuttered. Tears welled up; confusion and frustration pushing them from him. “Maybe… maybe-”

“There’s no alternative than the truth!” Lance argued. He angrily wiped his hand across his face. “Why do you keep pushing us away? We all know and we accept you for who and what you are. We don’t care that you’re a necromancer or what happened in the past.”

“But you should!” Keith asserted. He should because Keith’s past wasn’t filled with happy memories and childish dreams. His ma had fled or had been killed; his pop had died by his own magick. He had had to steal and lie and cheat to survive on the streets. His magick had protected him in gruesome ways from people he  _ cared  _ about. He had hurt his family and he’d hurt his friends. Lance should care because it would happen again. “I’m not--a good person. I’ve done horrible things and if you knew, you wouldn’t be saying the things you are now. And even if you didn’t care,” he continued as Lance was about to protest, “I’m dangerous regardless of what you say.”

“Not this bullshit again,” Lance scowled. 

“It’s not bullshit! How can you just disregard how easily I could kill everyone?”

“Because you won’t! It’s as easy as that. You started practicing, you’re getting better at control. And even when you weren’t in control, you still stopped that peryton from skewering me. So stop bringing up that excuse. It won’t work anymore.”

“But Shiro--”

“You didn’t hurt him! He’s fine! When you blew up, your flames were as contained as they could be for the amount of magick stored within you. You didn’t hurt anyone.” Lance immediately held out a hand as the words left his mouth, stopping Keith from replying. Keith saw Lance reigned himself in, taking a shaky breath; Keith did the same, shaking out the sparks on his knuckles. His wrist had begun bleeding with his terse motions, the crimson streaming down his arm and dripping off his elbow to the grass below.

The forest was silent in the wake of their argument. Keith was angry and frustrated and desperate for Lance to just  _ stop _ . Why can’t he leave him be? Everything’s fine. And everything will be fine once Lance understood that if he were to stay they couldn’t be  _ friends _ or anything similar. Lance hadn’t wanted to accept that and Keith knew despite his best efforts the boy had been eradicating the walls he had constructed. He’s leaving Keith with few options other than one.

“You’re so quick to isolate yourself,” Lance softly said. Keith lifted his eyes to meet the sorrow in the other’s. “I can’t see you do it anymore.”

“You won’t have to,” Keith muttered.

“What?” Lance asked.

Keith took a steadying breath. Lance had only asked one thing from him when he found out about his necromancy: a way to curb the guilt Keith didn’t believe he should have. Once Keith relieved him of it, he wouldn’t have to stay up all night, or dress his hands, or wash his hair. He wouldn’t have to interact with him or deal with his stunted emotions concerning his magick. The encouraging words he offered would stop. Then Keith wouldn’t have to worry about believing them anymore. 

“I forgive you.”

Three simple words that would stop Lance’s charades. Out of context they were odd, but Keith could see the realization gradually appear on Lance’s face. 

“No,” Lance harshly, more of a demand. “No.”

“I forgive you,” Keith said sadly. His gaze shifted down and away from Lance, missing the pain present on his face; he was a coward not to witness it. He could imagine the guilt suddenly rushing through him, the sinking feeling fresh, but at least now Lance could move on from caring about him. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m leaving. I’ll get my stuff and go. Allura can remain with the group and you can help her become the queen Altea needs.”

Keith shakily walked toward the treeline, brushing by Lance, but then a tug stopped him. Lance’s hand hung around his uninjured wrist. The remaining burn scabs flaked against Lance’s smooth skin and Keith hated the contrast. It was a reminder that he didn’t belong here; that he didn’t belong with Lance. 

“I don’t accept your apology,” Lance thickly whispered. “You can’t leave until I accept your apology.”

“Stop playing this game, Lance. They’re words.”

“Not to me. They’re a promise that you’ll stay.”

“I can’t stay. Not when… Not when everything will eventually crash and burn,” Keith said as he shook his head. He clenched his fist, pulling his wrist from Lance’s grip, but Lance followed with a step closer and Keith couldn’t make himself take a step back. “You say you care. And I want to believe you. But one day you won’t.”

“That day won’t come,” Lance begged. His eyes were wide and tear filled, red-rimmed and glassy. He looked beautiful in his pain, his freckles brightening under flushed skin. Keith couldn’t look away. “I told you that we’re friends and I won’t turn my back on you. Ever.”

“That’s the problem. Stop trying to twist my mind.”

“I’m only telling the truth.”

“But it’s  _ hurting _ . I want to be your friend,” Keith breathlessly confessed, “but I care about you too damn much to let that happen.”

“Keith, that makes no fucking sense!” Lance exploded, rupturing the quieter reprieve of their argument. “I want to be your friend too! If we both want that, then why can’t it happen?”

“Because I’ll only end up hurting you.”

“And like I said before, that’s a bullshit excuse. You’re hiding.” Lance jabbed him in the chest and Keith slapped the finger away. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith said, crossing his arms, uncaring of the flowing blood. It wasn’t much but he needed something between him and Lance right now. He wanted to shut down, detach. He couldn’t deal with this. 

“Stop! Just stop!  _ Stars,  _ I hate when you do this,” Lance practically screamed. Keith jolted back to himself. “The whole unemotional facade. You can’t hide behind a blank face every time you try to deflect. I won’t just ignore it this time and I shouldn’t have before. You’re not just leaving because you believe you’re dangerous or that we don’t care. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

Keith frantically shook his head.

Too close. Lance was getting too close. Keith didn’t want Lance to know how broken and scared he was. But he kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Keith’s head spun as all his doubts and insecurities tumbled from his mind, pushing on his skull and on his heart, which thumped in his ears and in his chest and under his skin. Beneath his bones. They crackled and he almost coughed ash, but he was better now. He tucked his magick down and away. He wouldn’t hurt Lance. But he kept  _ pushing _ . 

“What is it, Keith? What aren’t you telling me? Why do you have some desperate urge to flee? We care about you. You’re our friend, but we can’t help if you won’t open up.”

“ _ Stop. _ ”

“Not when you won’t tell me what’s wrong! You can’t just leave. Not not after everything we’ve been through. Just tell me what’s wr--”

“I can’t get hurt again,” Keith brokenly whispered. His hand belatedly slapped against his mouth, catching the shadow of his words. Keith crumpled.

“...What?” Lance softly asked. Something snapped in Keith’s chest when Lance took a hesitant step back, putting more distance between them. He didn’t  _ want _ that. 

“Don’t--Please, just...” Keith shook his head. Fresh tears filled his eyes and flooded his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to say that, but Lance had this ability to draw things from him; like the tide, he supposed. Fitting, considering he was now pulling away and taking one of Keith’s secrets out with him. Lance just stared, wide eyed, like Keith spewing the truth wasn’t his intention.

Keith felt vulnerable, a feeling that was becoming more and more frequent under Lance’s ocean eyes; transparent, light, aching. He wanted to hide from his gaze, but knew he would miss it if he did. So he stood there, battling with himself: to run or to stay. 

“Keith,” Lance breathed. And suddenly he was there, wrapping Keith in his arms, pulling him to his chest. Keith gasped at the contact, his skin burning under Lance’s cool skin. “You won’t… I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

Shakily Keith grasped onto Lance, scarred fingers stretching across his back. Lance ran his hand through Keith’s damp hair, angling his head against his shoulder. It was so tender, so caring; Lance had always been tactical, but something else rushed through Keith at the gesture. 

“I--I want to be friends,” Keith choked out, “but if I let myself believe you care, it’ll only hurt more when you leave. And everyone always leaves first. My ma, my… my pop. Shiro. They all left me behind. I’d rather  _ die _ than have someone who cares about me leave again.”

Lance shushed him. “Hey, don’t talk like that. You won’t be left again. I’m here to stay.”

Keith wanted to protest--Lance couldn’t possibly promise something like that--but he stayed silent. He believed him: that he wanted to stay. Yet so many things could pull them apart, so many things out of their control. With Keith’s track record, it was only a matter of time. 

Lance continued, “But you have to stay too. We can work through this, but you’re gonna need to trust me. More than you do now. We haven’t always gotten along and I know you’re trying, but at least believe me when I say that we wouldn’t be the same without you. You are our friend. You’re  _ my _ friend. And you deserve to let yourself have that.”

Keith thickly swallowed. “I’ll try, okay? It’s hard. I haven’t--I just don’t… don’t trust easily. But I can trust you. Fully, I mean. Eventually.” 

“That’s all I want,” Lance said. 

Keith hesitated a moment. He hung onto Lance a little tighter.

“And I believe you. That you’re my friend.”

Lance’s smile caressed Keith’s crown; the witch could feel it widening, shifting his hair. He burrowed his head deeper into Lance’s shoulder, nose grazing his neck in an attempt to hide the way his face heated. Lance didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. 

They stood silent for a moment before Lance awkwardly chuckled. “Now that was way more emotionally exhausting than I thought it’d be, huh? Why don’t we… Here, let’s…” 

Lance maneuvered them toward the grass and lowered them onto it, the softness of the blades cushioning their descent. They pulled away for a moment. Lance gently swiped his thumbs over Keith’s cheeks, wiping them of tears; Keith’s blush only heated, but he noticed a tone of pink under Lance’s tanned skin as well. Neither boy said a thing as they embraced again. 

Keith was grateful. 

He drifted for a moment, not quite present but not absent either. He liked the coolness of Lance’s skin and the pressure of his arms. Lance smelled of sea salt, an aroma that seemed ingrained into his skin. Recently the smell had been becoming a comfort for Keith. It reminded him of all the times Lance sat too close as he wrapped his hands or briefly embraced him after a successful bout of necromantic magick. He wasn’t sure if all hydro elementals smelled of it, but he doubted they’d wear it as well as Lance. 

When Lance began to shift away, Keith almost voiced his complaints, but he didn’t go far. His hands still hung around Keith’s sides. 

“We should get your hands wrapped,” Lance softly said. Keith’s arms jolted from Lance, remembering the blood seeping from his wrist and how the back of his shirt must be damp and stained from it. “Don’t worry about it,” Lance assured. “I can wash it later. For now, your wrist is the priority.”

He leaned over, grabbing the satchel and pulling the gauze and medicine from it. His hands were clean again in moments and wrapped in minutes.

“You know, I did have more planned than washing in the stream and screaming until we hugged,” Lance smirked, a light lit to his tone.

“Oh? You planned the argument?” Keith rasped. 

“Uh huh, oh sure,” Lance teased as he packed away the gauze. “It was all part of my masterplan for you to open up. But seriously, we aren’t done with your relaxation vacation.” 

Lance then pulled out a couple of other jars from the satchel. 

“What are those?”

“These, my dear Mullet, are face masks!” 

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon, Keith!” Lance whined, voice slightly cracked from the previous tears. “I made new ones especially for you! It’ll help you unwind and depuff your eyes after all that sobbing--”

“I wasn’t sobbing.”

“--and you can’t refuse a gift I slaved all through night making. That’s just disrespectful.”

Kieth grimaced at his wording. It reminded him of how long Lance cared for him last night. It also irked him because he knew Lance was doing that on purpose. Despite the begging vampire eyes he was giving him and the cute pout, Keith knew Lance was just a tricky kitsune trying to get his way. Yet he still couldn’t say no. 

Reluctantly he said, “Fine. But only once.”

His final words were drowned out by Lance’s victory whoop. 

“And you have to do one too!” he added. 

“Like I’d protest. Need to keep this skin in tiptop shape.”

“Especially with those pesky wrinkles forming,” Keith said seriously.

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “You’re joking.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, suppressing the urge to laugh. It didn’t last long. 

“Okay, you got me,” he chuckled. “But you do seem stressed and tired. And your eyes are puffy too. I wasn’t the only one crying.”

“Details,” Lance dismissed. “We’re both tired, which is why we’re doing this in the first place.”

The witch quickly opened one of the jars, but then slammed the cap back down with a gasp. 

“I almost forgot!” Lance exclaimed before rummaging through the satchel once more. In seconds he pulled out a thin cloth. “Need to get those messy bangs out of the way.” He glanced at Keith hesitantly. “May I?”

Keith nodded. Lance leaned forward to tie it around his head before using it to pull back his drying hair, but when he was done, he didn’t move from Keith’s space. The other witch could clearly see the freckles dotting Lance’s nose and cheekbones, close enough to count them all. He thickly swallowed in the most unsubtle way ever. 

“Lance?” Keith hesitantly asked.

The boy rapidly blinked. “Ah, sorry, just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen your forehead before. It looks--I mean,  _ you _ , you look good.” Keith furrowed his burrows in confusion, but then Lance rushed out. “Okay, well, yeah, let’s just get started then, right?”

Lance made sure to sit right in front of Keith, their knees touching as they sat crisscrossed. He did Keith’s mask first, starting once he convinced Keith to close his eyes. Keith had jolted at the coolness of the mask on his skin, but quickly relaxed as Lance’s fingers traced over his brow and across his cheek. Lance explained where and how to apply it as he went and Keith hummed in acknowledgement, but he quickly fell into the soft touches of Lance’s fingers. 

Keith felt relieved. More so than he had in a long time. He’d been resisting Lance’s friendship for so long that giving in was easier than he had expected. Though he supposed they were already friends before this whole mess. 

Too soon it was Lance’s turn for a mask. 

Keith was nervous about applying it, but Lance wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wanted Keith to do it. So he did. Slowly at first. Really slow. 

Keith was only a fraction of the way done when Pidge and Hunk crashed through the brush. He jolted, smearing the mask across Lance’s cheek. 

“You didn’t tell us you were doing face masks!” Pidge boisterously accused with a pointed finger and a twisted face. 

Lance whipped around, pout on his lips and half the mask haphazardly done. 

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re for Keith,” he said.

“All the more reason to invite us!”

“Oh! Oh! Is this turning into team bonding?” Hunk hopefully asked. “Please, let this be team bonding!”

Lance looked toward Keith _. _ It took him a moment to realize he expected  _ him _ to answer. Keith glanced at Hunk and Pidge; both were eagerly awaiting his decision and it was clear which answer they wanted. He was still a little nervous around them. He hadn’t talked with them as much as he had with Lance and they only just found out about his necromancy, but even with doubts on his mind he couldn’t say no to Hunk’s clasped hands and Pidge’s pleading eyes. 

Lance said they believed Keith was their friend. So maybe there was hope. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith rasped. “You can join.”

Lance gave him a soft, knowing smile--one he was used to Shiro having--then turned to their friends with a stern, “Keith’s finishing mine first.”

“Then he’s doing mine next!”

Pidge and Hunk sat close and dug through the satchel, grabbing jars and sniffing their contents. As Keith finished the mask, Lance would peak open an eye every once and while and yell at them for not knowing the difference between a face mask and a cleansing balm or a moisturizer or even conditioner. 

Their bickering drew a small smile from Keith. He didn’t know the difference either. 

When he was done, Lance genuinely thanked him before turning to Hunk to start his mask. Keith saw Hunk ask Lance about the dark stains on the back of his tank, but he brushed off the question. Keith stared for a moment longer before Pidge poked him in the side. 

“My turn,” they said. Keith nodded then reached for a jar, fully intending on starting their mask when they stopped him. “No, I meant for one-one-one Keith time. Lance has been hogging you for too long.”

“I’ve been his medic!” Lance complained over Keith’s shoulder.

“Details,” Pidge muttered. “The point is he’s given you jars and jars of face masks, but I have something better. It’s… Well, think of it as an apology. For ratting you out.”

Keith grimaced. They didn’t need to get him anything. 

“Pidge, you don’t have to--”

“Yeah, I do,” they interrupted, rubbing at their elbow. “I still feel guilty about the whole thing. These shitty past few days are my fault.”

“You’re not the necromancer,” Keith answered, hoping the meaning would get through to them: they weren’t to blame for the situation because there wouldn’t have been a situation if he hadn’t been practicing. He had never hated them for their reaction. 

Keith could see Pidge think through his words, but then their brows furrowed as they said, “Yeah, but I should’ve been a better friend.”

Keith hadn’t been expecting that. Pidge didn’t care to elaborate more.

He thought back to their reaction, how they ran instead of attacked. He remembered their words when he was trembling under that twisted tree. They had gotten through to him. In the moment he had believed them and welcomed Pidge with open arms. Since then, he had doubted their sentiments. He still did. But hope also radiated within him.

“Did you mean what you said?” Keith asked, then hesitated with tense shoulders. “After… after I hurt Shiro. When you said that I was your…”

“Brother?” Pidge finished. They smiled softly. “Of course, I did. Keith we’re friends, but I want to be closer than that. I want to be family.” Keith shakily exhaled while nodding his head. He already cried today and he wouldn’t be doing it again no matter how his eyes stung and burned. “And to prove my worth as a proper sibling,” they continued. “I got you a few things. Well, retrieved is a better word.”

Pidge opened the pouch attached to her belt and slowly pulled out a small book with its title scratched out. Shakily Keith took it, running his scarred fingertips over its cover. 

“My book,” he breathed. The one he had brought to practice with; the very same one Allura used as justification to imprison him. It had bittersweet memories attached to it, but he would never dare give it up. 

“And with Hunk’s help, we were able to get back to where you were practicing.”

They then pulled out his pair of fingerless leather gloves, the ones Shiro had originally gotten him for his tenth birthday. He gratefully accepted them, holding the worn leather between his hands. At first he hadn’t thought he deserved them, especially after Shiro’s reaction to his necromancy, but when Shiro gifted them again, he knew he couldn’t refuse. He grew into them as their relationship solidified and flourished. All he had to do was look at them to be reminded that in the end Shiro  _ chose _ him.

“And one more thing…” Pidge said.

Finally a knife with an etched symbol in its hilt. 

Tenderly he held the knife, a guilty pang ringing through his chest for not thinking of it once since abandoning it to race after Pidge. For not thinking of the gloves either.

After his childhood home burned down, the knife was the last piece of his past. Not having it would be like missing a part of himself. He’d grown up with this knife, fought with this knife, practiced with this knife. It was the only thing connecting him to his pop… and to his ma. 

“Thank you,” he thickly said. “Thank you so much. I… You have no idea how much this means.”

Hesitantly Keith placed a hand on Pidge’s shoulder and soon enough the familiar-witchling was burrowing into his chest, glasses digging into his collar bone. He didn’t complain, simply holding them tighter. 

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Watch the face mask!” Lance warned.

Pidge made a surprised noise before flinging themselves out of Keith’s lap and frantically checking their hair and shirt. 

Keith blankly stared before saying, “How did you even take me seriously with this stuff on my face?”

“You know what? It was hard,” Pidge chuckled as they patted his head where the headband held back his thick black hair. 

Lance peered over Keith’s shoulder looking at the objects Pidge at given him before gasping.

“Do you cut your hair with that knife?” he shrieked, face drawn up in horror.

Oh, boy. Keith awkwardly clenched his teeth. “...Maybe?”

“Oooooo,” Hunk drew out with a giddy face. 

“Oh you’re so in for it,” Pidge tiredly commented.

Keith glanced between the two before Lance began. 

“Oh. My.  _ Stars _ . This is why you have split ends and choppy hair! How is one of my best friends like this? How did I let this happen? How did I not  _ see  _ this happening?” He clutched at his chest as if his heart would give out at the revelation. He moved closer to Keith as if his shrieking would better get through his thick skull if he was a couple feet closer. “First the conditioner,” he lamented, “now this. Scissors! Scissors, scissors, scissors! Use them! I can’t believe the ignorance of my own friends!”

“Hey, now,” Hunk said.

“Not you, babe,” Lance apologized. “I could never insult how shiny you keep your coat. But you two!” He dramatically pointed to Keith and Pidge. “Detestable. And I have no one to blame about your lack of knowledge than myself. I’ve failed at being a good friend.”

“I think you’re a good friend,” Keith muttered. As everyone silently stared, his shoulders rose to his ears; he felt transparent yet again, but this time he wanted to be, no matter the nerves running through his veins. He had spent too long denying this. “You’re all good friends.”

No one moved. Until Hunk weakly started slapping Lance’s shoulder.

“Oh, man, that’s just… I’m feeling so much. I think I’m going to cry. It’s happening,” Hunk sniffled. “I’m crying. Lance, hold me.” He collapsed into his friend’s waiting arms, eyes glassy and watering. Lance continued staring, mouth slightly agape. 

“I--I’m sorry!” Keith rushed out. He’d been so stupid to say that. Doubt began creeping in again. Maybe he’d gone too far. He began retreating into himself.

Pidge placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping his thoughts.

“I want another hug,” they sniffled before clinging to him like a kraken. 

Though he wrapped his arms around Pidge, he said, “I’m confused.”

“Like I know you said it to me earlier, but I think it’s gonna hit hard every time,” Lance said, not quite answering his question. 

“It’s just--We’ve wanted to be your friends for so long,” Hunk sniffled as he rose from Lance. Tear tracks carved their way through his honey-colored face mask. “And then you just drop that on us with your headband and your face mask and your nervous eyes. Oh spirits, more waterworks.”

“You guys…? I didn’t think--”

“That’s not a first,” Pidge muttered, but they squeezed him a little tighter. “We’ve wanted you to see us as friends since the beginning.”

“But I was so…”

“Standoffish? Rude? Aggressive?” Lance listed off.

“You know why,” he murmured and Lance’s expression dropped. Keith regretted isolating himself from them for so long, but he had been terrified of Lance remembering him after their last encounter as kids. His fear had bled into his other relationships within the group and he had been constantly on alert in case one of them discovered his necromancy or if he let it get out of control. 

“But once you got past that,” Pidge said, not sensing the tension or seeing the guilt radiating from Lance as they buried their head further into Keith’s chest, “you started staying for dinner and talking more. Lance got you to laugh once. We thought we were friends.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t show how much I cared,” Keith genuinely admitted. “I couldn’t let you guys get too close.”

“But there’s nothing stopping you now. Right?” Hunk hopefully questioned.

“I want friends. I want you guys to be my friends.”

“Easy, cause we already are,” Pidge said. 

“Yeah!” Hunk agreed. “Necromancy and all!”

Keith fumbled for a reply. It’s not often he’s wholly validated with his necromancy involved.

“I--I… Right,” he said before glancing at Lance. “We’re friends. But I can still be dangerous--”

“Oh, please,” Pidge dismissed before slowly climbing off Keith and fixing her off kilter glasses. “Like you’d hurt your only friends.”

“I don’t want to. That’s the point!” Keith argued. Lance looked at him like an idiot. He should’ve known his ‘dangerous’ argument wouldn’t have worked on Pidge and Hunk if it hadn’t worked on Lance. He met them halfway then. “I’ve only just started really practicing with my necromantic fire, so it’s still not completely under control. I’m just saying if anything happens and I tell you to back off, then back off.”

“No problem,” Hunk agreed. “Like we’re totally cool now. Totally. I trust you man.  _ But _ the whole blowing up thing was scary and that didn’t even involve corpses or maggots or anything, so I’ll definitely be backing off.”

“Did you tell him I work with  _ maggots _ ?” Keith incredulously accused Lance.

“Hey! Why do you think I told him anything?” Keith leveled him with a glare and despite his face being covered in goop, it delivered the desired effect. Lance scratched the back of his head nervously, pouting, which cracked his drying mask. “Well,” he admitted, “he was asking a lot of questions after you ran off so I tried to answer them,  _ but _ I told him you hated maggots!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But if you guys have questions, just ask  _ me  _ next time. I’ll try to answer. I’m not exactly an expert and I’m not comfortable with everything, but I’ll try.”

“Yeah and that’s all well in good, but no interrogation right now!” Lance cried out, waving a hand at Pidge who already had a question on the tip of her tongue. Keith winced at his volume, but nodded in agreement. He really didn’t want to deal with a barrage of questions from their most curious group members right now. “This is a relaxation vacation. Hear those two words.  _ Relaxation. Vacation. _ That means no stress allowed and if anyone violates that rule you’re disinvited from face masks.”

Hunk incredulously gasped like a disinvitation was akin to death.

“What if your voice is stressing me out?” Pidge flatly said.

“Nonsense,” Lance dismissed. “My voice is beautifully melodic. I could outperform a siren.”

“Yeah, maybe if the siren was mute,” Keith added.

Hunk immediately perked up as Lance gasped in affront. “Did Necromancer Keith make a joke? Oh, he did, didn’t he?”

“Uh,” Keith said.

“Ignore him,” Pidge said before placing a jar in Keith’s hand. “I still need a mask.”

Pidge took off their glasses while Keith asked Lance for another headband. They all fell into comfortable silence then as Keith more confidently applied the mask and Lance lounged on Hunk. 

Keith didn’t remember a time he’d felt more peaceful. He’d never had friends to hang with before, so while the experience was new, it also felt as if something fell into place, like he was meant to be here with them. It was a comforting thought.

They were all so absorbed in simply existing together that they hadn’t heard someone approach.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?”

Keith jolted before glancing up. 

Shiro was there tiredly looking down at them. His eyes were tight and drawn, their usual bright grey dimmed by heavy lidded eyes. His white tuft of hair awkwardly felt over them and stuck out as if he had been running his hand through it since he woke. 

“Face masks,” Keith said. He smirked as he grabbed a jar. “And you’re next.”

Everyone cheered as Lance and Hunk dragged a reluctant Shiro into the fray. Pidge grabbed a clip from her pouch and pulled his hair back. Shiro awkwardly settled in the middle of the group.

“He looks like Keith,” Lance mentioned.

“We aren’t brothers by blood,” Keith said disappointedly.

“No, not like that. I mean he looks as scared as you did when I said we were doing this--Ouch!” 

Keith was satisfied with the punch to Lance’s shoulder. The childish tongue in his face and Shiro’s disappointed look were worth it. 

“I--I don’t know, guys,” Shiro protested as he squirmed a little on the grass, especially as Pidge leaned over his metal arm. Keith hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk to Shiro about it yet, but it was clearly bothering him and rightfully so. “I really should be back at camp--”

“Nope,” Lance said, popping the p. “You have been officially invited to the relaxation vacation, which means all your worries are to be left behind.”

“Any stressful conversation and you will be disinvited,” Hunk warned while wiggling his fingers. Keith snorted. 

“Which doesn’t count if said voice is causing a stress migraine,” Pidge said with crossed arms. “I already tried with Lance’s.”

“Hey!”

“Look,” Shiro said. “I appreciate it, but I need to go back and talk with Allura--”

“Not this again,” Lance huffed. “You can’t convince her to change her mind, Shiro.”

“Yeah and do we even want her along with us after all the shit she put Keith through?” Pidge said.

“Language,” Shiro admonished.

“Okay,  _ dad _ ,” they replied sarcastically. “But seriously. She said some messed up stuff. And she meant it. May I remind everyone that fae can’t lie. So unless there was some serious manipulation to the meaning of her words, everything she’s been saying is her truth about Keith.”

Everyone took a moment to absorb their words.

Keith hadn’t considered the perspective Pidge offered. He hadn’t considered the princess ever lying about everything she had screamed about him, but he also hadn’t considered that her words had been her absolute truth. Somehow it hurt more. 

Pidge’s argument clearly shook everyone else as well. With how normal the princess and Coran acted, besides the occasional fae custom or word, it was difficult to remember that their pointed ears and painted cheeks separated them from the others. Fae couldn’t lie. The princess meant every word she had spewed. 

Keith still had trouble accepting that the others would leave her behind for him. She attacked him multiple times, but she was still a princess on the run from Galra Unseelie Court. If they left her behind, the last Altean royal could be lost. 

“What’s going to happen to her?” Keith quietly asked. 

Shiro closed his eyes for a moment. He looked so much older, battle hardened and weary. 

“We’ve reached a tentative agreement. If negotiations continue, Allura will be traveling with us,” Shiro slowly said. Everyone began protesting besides Keith, but Shiro continued, “Look, we all hate what she did to Keith. But the fact of the matter is, she’s the next heir to the Altean throne and to have a smooth transition from Galra rule to rightful Altean rule she must be crowned. To do so, Allura needs to be put in contact with the rebel group who is leading the campaign against the Galra.”

“Is it worth putting her on the throne after her prejudices with Keith?” Lance seriously asked. He darkly chuckled. “If she can’t believe in her friends, how can we trust her with the crown?”

“Considering her circumstances, I understand why she would view Keith’s loyalty with hesitance. I’m not saying it’s justified,” he emphasized, eyes determinately finding Keith’s. He wanted to be clear about his stance on the matter: her actions against Keith were horrid. “Treating a person, let alone a teammate, like that would never be excusable, but she’s still working through the trauma of watching her people suffer and die under the Galra and their aligned necromancers. 

“Allura is the only one who can take the crown without anyone questioning her worth. She’s been groomed since her birth to wield power over the high fae and they recognize her as late King Alfor’s only heir. If anyone can control the manipulation of the court, it’s her. Placing Allura as Queen of Altea will help avoid court drama and possible usurpation and instability if another is crowned, diminishing the risk of second Galra takeover.”

“Get her the crown so no one else takes it?” Pidge asked thoughtfully. “I mean that’s been our plan since meeting her right? We just have never fleshed it out.”

“Yeah, while we’re on crowning a new ruler,” Hunk interjected. “What about once we defeat Zarkon? A Galra has to take the throne, but they can’t be a Zarkon loyalist. How are we going to deal with that, ‘cause Allura can’t be queen of both courts. That’s what we’re trying to stop.”

“Obviously we haven’t worked out all the details,” Shiro said, “but that’s why we are gathering allies for Altea and searching for the rebel group. They have more intel, more supplies, and more power than our small group.”

“Is anyone else worried about having a murderous fae near our dear necromancer?” Lance exasperatedly asked. 

“Of course, I’m worried,” Shiro immediately defended. His tone sharpened. “That’s why I’ve been conversing with Allura for hours on end.” Lance shrunk a little at his words. Keith appreciated his worry over him, but he trusted his brother’s judgements. “I’ve been talking with her and have been discussing the terms of her continuation on the team. She says she doesn’t want to fight us and has agreed to continue traveling with us as a guest instead of a leader. I am still concerned about Keith’s safety. It is my number one priority and one of the terms we haven’t agreed upon yet.” Shiro turned to Keith. “Allura will not be traveling with us if you don’t want her to. If you have any concerns about her at all, I’ll call off our tentative agreement.”

“I…” 

Keith’s fingers began wearing at the edges of the gauze around his hands as he struggled to express his feelings on the matter. He vividly remembered the hatred in the princess’s eyes and the crimson splotches of her cheeks. She’d attacked him, questioned his loyalty, and almost killed him with suppression cuffs. Honestly being in any close proximity to her scared him. She had no hesitation about hurting him, but more than that, if she attacked him again while his magick was active, he could seriously hurt her or one of the others. He’s not in control enough to deal with heavy, negative emotions, especially when his life was possibly on the line. 

But she was also the princess of Altea.

“She can come.”

“Keith,” Lance softly said to draw his attention. Keith slowly raised his eyes from the fraying gauze he had been absently picking. Concern and worry overlayed Lance’s face. Lance clearly was thinking about how he had reacted in the medical tent in regards to the said mutiny against the princess. He covered Keith’s hands with his own. “Don’t force yourself to accept this. If you feel uncomfortable with Allura around, then she can find her own way to the rebel group.”

Keith forced a small smile. “I’m fine. I trust Shiro to lay fair terms.”

“You know she won’t be traveling with us if she doesn’t agree to strict behavioral rules,” Shiro assured. He placed a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder; his flesh hand. It was grounding. “If she so much as dreams about hurting you, she’s gone. I care about you too much and I’m not losing you again. You’re my brother and I don’t want you to hurt.”

“Same here!” Pidge agreed.

“Yeah, let’s not have another incident,” Hunk said. “I don’t think my stomach can handle that again.”

“She’s not hurting you again,” Lance seriously said as his hand tightened around Keith’s. Murderous eyes found Keith’s; he hadn’t realized how protective Lance had become and warmth flooded him at the thought. “I won’t let her.”

“Thanks guys,” Keith softly said. “It really means a lot.”

“Aww, he’s blushing!” Hunk squealed. “Okay! Group hug!”

Hunk launched himself onto everyone, pulling them in and squishing them together. They all laughed and latched onto one another until everyone realized how much face mask goop had been smeared from their faces and onto each other’s clothing. They scrambled away while laughing and Keith couldn’t put a word to how he felt at that moment.

Honestly everything was worth this. He had friends who he was building a family with. And they knew he was a necromancer and accepted him. Words simple weren’t enough to describe the ascending feeling circulating in his chest. He hadn’t felt this light in  _ years _ , the wisps of total freedom a long distant memory before the discrimination and prejudices tore down his confidence and smashed his feelings of safety.

Keith was here. In a circle of friends. With his brother. Safe. 

Though it hadn’t been said, he also felt loved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i decided to end this fic here. obviously there's still some stuff the group needs to work through and ill probably be addressing it in other fics in the It Burns series
> 
> i hope you guys liked it! and dont forget to give kudos and comment! i live for comments. they are my lifeblood


End file.
